NRS H2Core Lightweight Hoodie

This sweater was perfect for those cool mornings before the sun peaked over the rim, and evenings as the desert chill began to set in. Similar to the H2Core Lightweight Pants, the hoodie is made of 9 oz polyester/spandex blend that keeps you warm without overeating. It wicked away moisture too. I reserved this hoodie for camp use only, though one of my buddies had the men’s version and wore it hiking and sometimes in the water. Best of all, when I got out of the Grand Canyon I ran it through the wash, wore it the next day, and still got a compliment on it.

]]>http://www.canoekayak.com/gear/nrs-h2core-lightweight-hoodie/feed/0NRS H2Core Lightweight Pantshttp://www.canoekayak.com/gear/nrs-h2core-lightweight-pants/
http://www.canoekayak.com/gear/nrs-h2core-lightweight-pants/#commentsTue, 15 Jul 2014 18:08:02 +0000http://www.canoekayak.com/?p=72635NRS H2Core Lightweight Pants ($49.95, nrs.com ) Review by Charli Kerns The NRS H2Core Lightweight Pants made for a very comfortable ride down the Grand Canyon, whether sitting in my Wavesport Recon kayak, or hiking the side canyons. These pants kept me warm in the splashing 40-degree water, while the 9 oz polyester/spandex blend offered great breathability against the hot Grand Canyon June sun (and 50 SPF protection). I also found when I needed the extra warmth these pants made a really great combo under the NRS Women’s HydroSkin 0.5 Capris with skirt. Because water will enter your kayak with how big those Canyon waves can get. ← Astral Brewess Shoe Zeal Ace Sunglasses →

NRS H2Core Lightweight Pants

The NRS H2Core Lightweight Pants made for a very comfortable ride down the Grand Canyon, whether sitting in my Wavesport Recon kayak, or hiking the side canyons. These pants kept me warm in the splashing 40-degree water, while the 9 oz polyester/spandex blend offered great breathability against the hot Grand Canyon June sun (and 50 SPF protection). I also found when I needed the extra warmth these pants made a really great combo under the NRS Women’s HydroSkin 0.5 Capris with skirt. Because water will enter your kayak with how big those Canyon waves can get.

Astral Abba PFD

With a woman-specific fit and environmentally friendly design, the Astral Abba PFD demonstrates quality commensurate with the Grand Canyon way of life. It’s rated to 17.4lbs of buoyancy, a full pound more than the minimum USGS requirement for Level 3 certification. That meant I really floated high up when I swam through a rapid on the Colorado at 13,000 CFS. I was thankful for the PFD then. The Abba is made with Kapok, the protective layer around the fruit of the ceiba tree. This natural material is naturally buoyant, light, insulating, and water resistant. The Astral Abba sometimes rode a little high when I was in my kayak, but for rowing it was perfect. This is a great PFD for raft guides and oars-women.

NRS Women’s H2Core Silkweight Long-Sleeve Shirt

Three things you notice right away on the Grand Canyon: your constant need for water, the heat, and the intensity of the sun. Within the first three days every bit of exposed skin was burnt red. I needed to cover up without cooking my self in the intense heat. The NRS H2Core Silkweight Long-Sleeve became my saving grace. I wore that shirt from the moment the sun hit camp in the morning until it dropped behind the canyon rim in the evening. The UPF-30 nylon/spandex blend shielded my skin, wicked moisture and somehow kept me from overheating. I still applied sunscreen every few hours to be sure. My upper body healed, and while I never got the tan everyone else could show off, I was still pretty happy with how that trip turned out. I didn’t need a tan to show off my experience down in the Grand Canyon. My numerous bumps, bruises and scratches were plenty.

]]>http://www.canoekayak.com/gear/nrs-womens-h2core-silkweight-long-sleeve-shirt/feed/0Zeal Ace Sunglasseshttp://www.canoekayak.com/gear/zeal-ace-sunglasses/
http://www.canoekayak.com/gear/zeal-ace-sunglasses/#commentsMon, 14 Jul 2014 18:55:05 +0000http://www.canoekayak.com/?p=72637The sun reflects hard on the Colorado River, and sunglasses are necessary during the day. No bright ray could go through or around the Zeal Ace sunglasses.

Zeal Ace Sunglasses

The sun on the Colorado River is intense and a good pair of sunglasses are crucial during the day. The Zeal Ace sunglasses I wore provided excellent glare protection, thanks to the dark grey plant-based e-llume lens. The Italian-made, high-end Mazzuccchelli crafted frame made the sunglasses fit comfortably on my face. The coolest part of these sunglasses is that they’re made from a 100% cotton-made polymer frame. Paired with the e-llume lens, these babies are biodegradable, which was a good thing for nature, and made me feel a little better after the river demanded a sacrifice at House Rapid. Better the sunglasses than me. I’ll be getting another pair either of these or another of Boulder, Colo.-based sunglasses for their dedication to both high-end, outdoor frames and environmental conservation. I’ll just make sure to strap them extra tight next time.

]]>http://www.canoekayak.com/gear/zeal-ace-sunglasses/feed/0Gulf to Gulf Odysseyhttp://www.canoekayak.com/travel/gulf-gulf-odyssey-2/
http://www.canoekayak.com/travel/gulf-gulf-odyssey-2/#commentsTue, 27 May 2014 23:41:54 +0000http://www.canoekayak.com/?p=71015A day-to-day, POV-shot look into Brad Tallent and Austin Graham's seven months spent paddling 3,000 miles from the Gulf of St. Lawrence to the Gulf of Mexico with the trailer to the forthcoming documentary to their 'Gulf to Gulf Odyssey.'

Do Brad Tallent and Austin Graham have the Spirit of Adventure?VOTE NOW!

By Conor Mihell

The interminably hot, backbreaking days of hiking the 2,200-mile spine of eastern North America seems like an appropriate place to dream of the relative ease of paddling. In 2012, friends Brad Tallent and Austin Graham backpacked the length of the Appalachian Trail. En route, “we came to the conclusion that a long distance kayak trip was in order,” says Tallent, 24. “It didn’t take long for us to start throwing ideas around.”

The pair planned to launch their kayaks in the Gulf of St. Lawrence, in the Canadian province of Nova Scotia, and paddle all the way to the Gulf of Mexico. Starting last June, they paddled upstream on the St. Lawrence River to Lake Erie, then linked to the Mississippi via the Ohio River. Seven months and 3,000 miles later, they completed their Gulf to Gulf Odyssey in New Orleans.

Tallent says the biggest challenges along were mental. “We were far from family and friends and just had to keep each other going,” he says. “We had no idea how much we would rely on each other for emotional support throughout the entire trip.”

They packed two GoPro cameras and filmed along the way, compiling material for a documentary. “We really just wanted to share our experience and show people what life in a kayak for seven months straight is like,” says Tallent. “We captured some amazing moments and its also a relief that we can always look back on a huge part of our lives and relive every minute of it.”

]]>http://www.canoekayak.com/travel/gulf-gulf-odyssey-2/feed/0Try These Pelvis Stretches for Paddlershttp://www.canoekayak.com/skills/try-pelvis-stretches-paddlers/
http://www.canoekayak.com/skills/try-pelvis-stretches-paddlers/#commentsThu, 08 May 2014 20:07:41 +0000http://www.canoekayak.com/?p=69992A few simple hip stretches for paddlers stretches can fix major hidden pelvis issues, helping you feel good in your boat and top of your game on the river.

]]>The author, pictured below, has a B.S. in Human Physiology and is both a full-time Exercise Specialist and Professional whitewater Paddler of over seven years. She is the winner of the 2010-2013 Western Whitewater Championship Series, 4-time undefeated winner of the Wind River Festival from 2010-2013 and 5-time undefeated winner of Northwest Creeking Competition from 2009-2013 (Tie: 2009).

BY KIM BECKER

Does anyone remember the time you could barely get in your playboat because your hamstrings were too tight, or the time you were able to cram yourself in, but your hips and lower back were sore for days on end afterward? Chances are you’ve got an unhappy pelvis!

Tight hamstrings limit the mobility of the pelvis during bending and lifting activities, while tight hip flexors torque your pelvis, which can lead to pain as well as all sorts of alignment, postural, and functional problems.

Don’t worry though, these hidden pelvis issues can be fixed with a few simple stretches for paddlers.

1. Hamstring Stretch: The hamstring is actually a collective of three different muscles. Collectively, they are responsible for knee flexion, medial rotation and lateral rotation of the lower leg.

My personal favorite hamstring stretch is done lying down. Place a belt or strap around the ball of your foot. Lift your leg straight into the air, and pull on the strap until you feel a stretch at the back of your upper leg. Be sure to flex your foot (toes toward the ground), and keep your leg as straight as possible while you’re holding the stretch. Hold for 20-30 seconds, and repeat 2-3 times per leg.

2. Hip Flexors: Try a lunge stretch. The hip flexors are a collective of muscles that aid in flexion of the hip, as well as other movements.

To stretch the hip flexors, assume a lunge position and allow the knee of the “back” leg to drop to the ground. Your feet should be far enough apart to prevent the knee of your forward leg from moving too far past the ankle. Ideally, the knee should be kept directly over your ankle on your forward knee to reduce knee strain. From this position, keeping your torso upright, and allow your hips to shift forward, being sure they are “square” to the front. Keep your forward foot flat on the floor, and hold this position for 20-30 seconds. Repeat 2-3 times per leg.

Tip: To increase the stretch, engage your glutes, and lean back slightly at the hips. Be sure to keep your torso straight and avoid arching your back.

3. Piriformis Stretch: The piriformis functions as a lateral rotator of the hip, and is commonly tight in paddlers.

To stretch the piriformis, lie on your back and bend your knees so your feet rest flat on the floor. Bring your right ankle to your left knee/upper thigh, and press your right knee away from you. You should feel a stretch at your right hip/bottom. If this is too easy, bring your left foot off the ground, and your left leg toward you. Be mindful of keeping your feet flexed (pull your toes upward slightly) to protect your knees. This prevents overstretching at the outside of the knee, and provides dynamic bracing to the inside of the knee. Hold this position for 20-30 seconds, and repeat 2-3 times per leg.

4. IT Band Stretch: The IT Band runs along the lateral aspect of your leg, and functions to provide stability to the knee joint.

While standing, cross your left leg in front of your right leg. Then, bend to the left at the waist. Hold this position for 20-30 seconds, and repeat 2-3 times per side.

5. Massage Balls: Massage Balls are great for myofascial release! Lie on the ground with the ball between your body and the floor. Place it near the painful area, and roll your body side to side over the ball. Try using it above, below and to the sides of the painful area as well to address referred pain. If you’d rather stand, try putting the ball between yourself and a wall. Massage balls come in a variety of shapes, sizes and textures- a tennis ball is a great substitute!

6. My personal favorite, the rolling pin. That’s right folks, it’s time to raid the kitchen! Run the rolling pin over your quads, calves, hamstrings, and sides of your legs. Try it immediately after activity for best results. A foam roller does the trick as well.

All of these stretches can be performed in the comfort of your home, and take little to no time to complete. With a regular stretching regimen, your pelvis will be happy in no time, and you will find yourself performing better on the water before you know it!

**These techniques may not be suitable for some individuals, particularly those with a history of hip or knee replacements. Consult your physician before trying any of these movements.**

]]>http://www.canoekayak.com/skills/try-pelvis-stretches-paddlers/feed/0Rides: Joe Pikul’s Cedar Strip Prospectorhttp://www.canoekayak.com/gear/rides-joe-pikuls-chestnut-prospector-ranger-15-cedar-strip/
http://www.canoekayak.com/gear/rides-joe-pikuls-chestnut-prospector-ranger-15-cedar-strip/#commentsThu, 01 May 2014 22:18:56 +0000http://www.canoekayak.com/?p=70277By Katie McKy Here’s something that all fathers should know: Telling a kid “you can’t do that” is the best way to make sure he will do it. Even if it takes him 15 years. When Joe Pikul wanted to buy a canoe kit advertised in the back of Popular Mechanics, his dad said no—the elder Pikul had a better sense of what it takes to build a canoe, not to mention the attention span of a pre-teen would-be paddler. So Pikul learned to paddle in readymade Old Town wood canvas and Grumman aluminum canoes, eventually moving to Royalex for whitewater and a lightweight Bell Carbon Fiber BlackGold for trips with unmerciful portages. But he never lost sight of his boyhood dream to build his own canoe. When the time finally came, he didn’t use a kit. Instead he chose to build an all-time classic, from scratch. The shape was conceived in the 1920s, beloved by a legendary paddler, and still paddled today by dint of its steadfast performance: the Chestnut Prospector Ranger 15′. Katie McKy: Why wood? Joe Pikul: There’s an allure of wooden boats. It’s warm, inviting, and seems part of the environment. It flows and belongs there. You

Here’s something that all fathers should know: Telling a kid “you can’t do that” is the best way to make sure he will do it. Even if it takes him 15 years.

When Joe Pikul wanted to buy a canoe kit advertised in the back of Popular Mechanics, his dad said no—the elder Pikul had a better sense of what it takes to build a canoe, not to mention the attention span of a pre-teen would-be paddler. So Pikul learned to paddle in readymade Old Town wood canvas and Grumman aluminum canoes, eventually moving to Royalex for whitewater and a lightweight Bell Carbon Fiber BlackGold for trips with unmerciful portages. But he never lost sight of his boyhood dream to build his own canoe. When the time finally came, he didn’t use a kit. Instead he chose to build an all-time classic, from scratch. The shape was conceived in the 1920s, beloved by a legendary paddler, and still paddled today by dint of its steadfast performance: the Chestnut Prospector Ranger 15′.

Katie McKy: Why wood?
Joe Pikul: There’s an allure of wooden boats. It’s warm, inviting, and seems part of the environment. It flows and belongs there. You can glide so silently and it responds to the slightest touch. You can keep the paddle in the water and just gurgle along and you hear the sounds of nature and not your sounds. I don’t feel the same in a store-bought canoe.

Passing the torch. Photo courtesy Joe Pikul

Why the Chestnut Prospector Ranger?
After building a Merlin cedar strip, I had the itch to build another canoe. There’s nothing casual about building a cedar strip canoe, so I did the research. Bear Mountain Boats has a “Study Plans Catalogue” and I liked their description of the Prospector canoe, which they called the “Workhorse of the North.” It was Bill Mason’s favorite boat. Many of the canoes he paddled were made by the Chestnut Canoe Company, which made Prospector models from 12’ to 18’, all designed to carry paddlers and equipment into the Canadian bush. Bear Mountain Boats used a SmartScan device on a Prospector hull from the Chestnut Canoe Company to create their plans. The Prospector is good for flat water and whitewater and carries substantial loads. Designs come and go, but this design was so well conceived that it’s still made and valued today.

Did you have any reservations about building such an old-fashioned design?
The first wooden boat I built was a Merlin, which is shaped like a dagger. It’s only 27 inches at the gunnels. You can see the speed in the hull of the Merlin. The Ranger is nearly 34 inches, so they seem opposites. I feared that I was building a brick, and had no idea how it was going to paddle. However, when I put it in the water, that’s when I knew I had built a fine canoe. I understood why it’s been built for so many years. The responsiveness to the paddle delighted me. It’s safe too and a remarkable piece of engineering. Plus, I simply love to look at it. The lines give me joy.

More than just another pretty boat: Pikul launching his ride. Photo courtesy Joe Pikul

What woods did you use?
The hull is all Western Red Cedar. The gunnels are all white ash. The internal stem is cedar and the external stem is white ash. All of the interior trim, the seat hangers, thwarts, and deck plates are black walnut. Everything that went into the canoe, I built other than the epoxy, webbing for the seats, and the screws.

Was your father right about the commitment it takes to build a canoe?
It does take a lot of commitment to build a canoe. It took me 14 months to build the Ranger. However, when I look at it, I want to build another.

When water and impact protection are your top priority it’s hard to go wrong with Pelican’s durable hard-shell plastic cases—especially when space and weight are not the biggest concerns. These cases come in many sizes, perfect for fitting to a particular piece of gear. They also have a near perfect track record for protecting equipment. If you want to shoot on rivers, lakes or oceans using high-end video cameras, then you pretty much need this kind of security. The snap-latches allow speedy opening and closing—an important feature when shooting in changeable conditions. The reassuring click lets you know your gear is secure, no matter what comes next. When a Peli box is open, however, it’s wide open. That leaves your gear more vulnerable to splashes and rogue waves than it would be in an unsealed drybag for example. The other drawback is their size and bulk. Cases big enough to secure a DSLR and a lens or two don’t fit easily into kayaks. If you’re taking a camera collection down the Grand Canyon on an 18-foot raft, on the other hand, you can’t do better than a Pelican case.

Frankly my dear, I don’t want a dam. Cliché as the Clark Gable-chiding bumper sticker is, that’s the overriding sentiment of river conservationists this past year. According to conservation organization American Rivers, in 2013 communities in 18 different states, working in partnership with various non-profits and state and federal agencies, removed 51 outdated or unsafe dams throughout the country, restoring waterways for everyone from fish to floaters.

The dams restored free-flowing water to rivers in Alabama, California, Colorado, Idaho, Illinois, Maine, Massachusetts, Michigan, New Jersey, North Carolina, Ohio, Oregon, Pennsylvania, South Dakota, Vermont, Virginia, Wisconsin and Wyoming, restoring more than 500 miles of waterway. Topping the list for the eleventh year in a row was Pennsylvania, where 12 dams were removed, followed by Oregon, which lost eight, and New Jersey, where four dams were removed. American Rivers played a role in 25 of the dam removals.

The water-restoring efforts spell good news for environmentalists, as well as paddlers now able to dip a blade on the now-free flowing river sections. “The river restoration movement in our country is stronger than ever,” says American Rivers president Bob Irvin. “Communities nationwide are removing outdated dams because they recognize that a healthy, free-flowing river is a tremendous asset.”

Highlightinglast year’s dam removals are three of special note:

Whittenton Dam, Mill River, Mass.: The Whittenton Dam was the second in a series of three dam removals from the Mill River in Taunton, Mass. Built in 1832, the 8-foot high, 100-foot-wide, concrete dam originally provided power for textile and other mills. Concerns over dam owner liability, public safety, and fish passage prompted its removal, as did a near failure in 2005 that would have caused catastrophic flooding and resulted in the evacuation of 2,000 people from downtown Taunton. The issues at the dam provided the catalyst for improved dam safety regulations in the state. The project restored a mile of river and floodplain habitat for fish and wildlife. Project partners are completing the designs to remove the third dam later in 2014, re-creating access to important spawning habitat for river herring, American eel and sea lamprey.

Lassiter Mill Dam, Uwharrie River, North Carolina.: Lassiter Mill Dam, a 12-foot-high, 200-foot-long structure on the Uwharrie River in Randolph County, N.C., was removed last August in conjunction with American Rivers, the Piedmont Conservation Council, The National Oceanic and Atmospheric Administration, U.S. Fish and Wildlife Service, and area the landowners. The group worked to restore a historic American shad run as well as habitat for other aquatic life, including freshwater mussels and native fish. Marking the third dam removal in this watershed, the dam removal also allowed access to an additional 14.6 miles of mainstem habitat and a total of 189 reconnected river miles including tributaries.

Removing the Stearns Dam. Photo courtesy riverdesigngroup.com

Stearns Dam Removal, Crooked River, Oregon.: Capping a 10-year-log project, the six-foot-tall, 150-foot-wide Stearns Dam was removed from the Crooked River to open up 12 miles of habitat for Chinook salmon and Middle Columbia steelhead. Built by a ranching family in 1911, Stearns Dam was a rock- and log-filled structure covered with concrete that had outlived its useful purpose and was no longer used for irrigation flows. The section just upstream is some of the river’s best habitat and includes the beginning stretch of the river’s Wild and Scenic portion. The Crooked River is the Deschutes River’s largest tributary and the Stearns Dam removal will benefit the fish reintroduction program underway in the larger Deschutes Basin. The project was funded in part by a partnership between AR and the NOAA Restoration Center, with the local Crooked River Watershed Council and Quail Valley Ranch also key collaborators.

Here is Andy Maser’s film of the Condit Dam removal in October, 2011. Because we love the White Salmon River and watching things go boom.[/caption]

Following the highly publicized removal of the 100-year-old Condit Dam on Washington’s White Salmon River in October 2011, last year’s dam removals are keeping the river restoration momentum flowing as strongly as the waters the removals have freed. Last year’s dam removal numbers were so numerous, in fact, that American Rivers is celebrating the fact with an interactive map of all known dam removals in the United States as far back as 1936. It has already added the information on 2013’s 51 dam removals to its database of 1,150 dams removed across the country since 1912 (850 of which have been removed in the past 20 years) in its effort to assimilate dam removal information to better communicate the benefits of restoring river health and clean water, revitalizing fish and wildlife, improving public safety and recreation, and enhancing local economies.

Frank Wolf is Canada’s most diverse adventurer. In the past 20 years, he’s done an impressive single-season canoe expedition across Canada, climbed volcanoes in Indonesia, whitewater kayaked in Cambodia and Laos, cycled from the Yukon to Nome, Alaska in the dead of winter, sea kayaked around British Columbia’s Haida Gwaii, hiked, packrafted and sea kayaked the proposed Northern Gateway pipeline and supertanker route from Alberta’s tar sands to the Pacific Ocean, and last summer he was part of a four-person team to row the Northwest Passage. The common thread between all of Wolf’s expeditions is a mind-boggling degree of difficulty, revealed through creative (some might say impossible) route selection and personal suffering along the way. Even more impressive is Wolf’s ability to film insightful and humorous documentaries along the way.

In 2012, one of the bigger Frank Wolf canoe expeditions was a new and exceedingly arduous—400-mile canoe route across the wilderness of Labrador and northern Quebec, which he completed with Todd McGowan. We caught up with the 43-year-old North Vancouver resident to learn more about KITTURIAQ, Wolf’s new documentary, which is now available to rent or purchase on Vimeo.

CanoeKayak.com: Where did you get the idea to do the Kitturiaq expedition?
Frank Wolf: I had this idea to do a canoeing film from the perspective of a mosquito—my canoe partner and I would be joined by a mosquito who would report as narrator as if she were on the trip with us. Thus the name Kitturiaq, which means “mosquito” in Inuktitut. It would be a new creative challenge that would differentiate it from my other canoe expedition films, BOREALISand MAMMALIAN. I just needed to find an appropriate setting with an ample supply of film extras.

I always look for blank spaces on the map I haven’t visited and then figure out a way to go there and experience the area by self-propelled means. I hadn’t been to Nunatsiavut (Inuit Labrador) or Nunavik (Inuit Quebec) so I started looking for a way to travel through both areas by canoe in one journey. I chose Nain, Labrador as the start point of my journey, working out a line on the maps that I thought would go. The town is the last stop of a two-day ferry ride from Goose Bay, NL up the Labrador coast, so as far north as I could get with my canoe.

The locals must’ve been pretty stunned when you guys showed up with these plans.
Yes, the locals in Nain were surprised. Nain is the governing hub of the region, so I interviewed the President of Nunatsiavut and the Minister of Tourism and Culture for the film. They said some locals occasionally venture up onto the edge of the plateau in the winter time via snowmobile but never in the summer—because the access is much more difficult and also “the flies.” They laughed at us but didn’t discourage us, which was nice of them.

In researching the trip, I discovered a British explorer named Hesketh Prichard had attempted to cross the Labrador Plateau by canoe in 1910. For the first 50 miles, his team began up Nain Bay and the Fraser River like us, but then went a little further up the river than us. After caching one of their canoes in the valley, they portaged up to the 1500-foot high plateau via steep, rocky Bear Ravine. Once on the plateau, with no water in sight, they abandoned their last canoe and then walked to the George River overland via a different route, eventually returning via the same route. Prichard details his trip in the book Through Trackless Labrador.

Learning from Prichard’s error, I chose a different route up and across the plateau that looked like it would allow for more paddling. In Nain, Inuit hunters there agreed that my route up to the plateau via the Poungasse Ravine would be the easiest of many difficult options. I weave Prichard’s story in with ours during the course of the film as well.

What is it about you and these crazy difficult routes?
My routes aren’t intentionally difficult but since often there is no information about the route to draw from, unexpected challenges pop up. A big reason I do the routes I do is because I don’t know if they can be done—the adventure is in being creative and tactful trying to push a route through difficult terrain. I also never use bush planes to skip over hard sections. I have deep respect for and try to emulate the style of First Nations, Inuit and voyageurs of the past who went upstream as much as downstream to connect routes, sometimes enduring difficult portages along the way. After all, nothing worthwhile is easy.

In terms of difficulty, how did this trip compare to your previous expeditions?
The 155 miles over the Labrador Plateau was quite difficult—a lot of the creeks shown on the maps were choked with rocks and not navigable, forcing us to portage ever-onward between small lakes and ponds. In particular, portaging 30 days worth of food and gear up 1,500 feet of elevation over a 2.8-mile stretch in a blackfly swarm from Fraser Lake to the Plateau was tough—but great for the film! I’d put that at the top of my toughest portages ever.

Besides the bugs, what’s your biggest memory of this landscape?
It is beautiful everywhere up there, from the steep cliff faces of the Fraser to the stark, rolling tundra of the Plateau. But the strongest memory is of the experience. We portaged for most of the first week over the Plateau, averaging maybe six miles per day, but then it fattened up once we crossed into Nunavik from Nunatsiavut, where we were treated to absolutely spectacular whitewater paddling down the Natikamaukau River —which I’m sure few people have ever paddled. The Natikamaukau River then spilled us into the George River where we encountered an Innu encampment at Mushuau Nipi and feasted with them on fresh caribou and lake trout. After that it was pure leisure and pleasure down the powerful George River. So the first half of the trip was somewhat of a grinding hell but we were paid back in full during the second half. That full range of experience is what any trip should be about.

What’s next? Any more canoe trips on the horizon?
Last year I didn’t do a canoe trip. I attempted to row the Northwest Passage with three other fellows instead, so I’m itching for a canoe trip this year. I have an 800-mile line picked out—equal parts upstream, flatwater, and downstream through the sweet water of the boreal from the narrows of Lake Winnipeg up to Hudson Bay. It’s another line I’ve never experienced before so it should be a good time.

Paddlers are pre-disposed to shoulder injuries. Whether upside down, paddling forward, or bracing, there is a significant amount of torque on the shoulder joint at any one time. With this in mind, it is important to consider shoulder anatomy when paddling.

The shoulder joint is what is known as a ball-and-socket joint in which the ball of the humerus sits in a socket created by the glenoid fossa of the scapula—so where the arm fits into the shoulder. The shoulder blade is the location of various muscle attachments: your rotator cuff muscles, deltoid and teres minor and major muscles. Beyond the shoulder blade, there are many muscles, including the biceps brachii and triceps that attach to the humerus and affect overall shoulder strength. These muscles collectively give strength and stability to the shoulder joint.

The Paddler’s Box
The paddler’s box may be traced from the paddle, up both arms to the shoulders and across the chest. The paddler’s box moves with you as you rotate your torso, and it is generally important to stay within the box as you paddle. Be wary of movements where you extend your arms above or to the right, left, or forward out of the paddler’s box, such as high bracing. These movements put your shoulders in compromising positions, leaving them open to injury, and should generally be avoided.

Maintain Proper Posture in your Paddler’s Box
Throughout your paddle stroke, try to maintain a vertical posture. Sit up tall, keep your shoulders down and back, and keep your head stable, resisting the bobble-head temptation. Proper posture will allow you to stay centered in your kayak as well as allow maximum torso rotation through proper body mechanics. Proper body mechanics means more efficient strokes and less stress on the shoulders.

Use your Torso
When paddling, keep your arms in a slightly bent position, and focus on generating power using your upper back and torso rather than your arms. To do this, rotate your torso right and left as you paddle, initiating each movement at the shoulder blades.

Visualize each arm to be a link between your back and paddle. Focus on pinching your shoulder blades together as if you were squeezing an orange between them, then initiating your stroke as you allow your torso to rotate. Be sure to keep your hands in line with your shoulders, and well within your “Paddler’s Box” as you do so. Visualize always keeping the center of the paddle shaft in line with the center of your chest or PFD zipper. Using this technique, at the end of the day, your upper back and torso should feel the work, not your arms.

Helpful hint: If I’m looking for full power, I tap my feet with each stroke. Right foot on the gas pedal with I take a stroke on the right, and vice-versa.

Look where you want to go
Just like driving, skiing, or mountain biking, look where you want to go and your kayak will naturally follow. You’ll notice paddle strokes will be more fluid, and movements will be easier.

Now it’s time to practice, practice, practice!

Kim Becker has a B.S. in human physiology and is both a full-time exercise specialist and professional whitewater paddler of over seven years. She has won the Western Whitewater Championship Series from 2010-2013 and Wind River Festival from 2010-2013, and has also won the Northwest Creeking Competition from 2009-2013.

]]>http://www.canoekayak.com/skills/savvy-shoulder-tips-tune-paddling-stroke/feed/3What’s in Your Kayak?http://www.canoekayak.com/events/kayaks-used-meth-drug-bust/
http://www.canoekayak.com/events/kayaks-used-meth-drug-bust/#commentsTue, 18 Feb 2014 23:44:00 +0000http://www.canoekayak.com/?p=69292Walter White and Los Pollos Hermanos have nothing on the Chinese kayak industry. Officials in Sydney, Australia reported on Wednesday that police had intercepted 183 kilos of methamphetamine in a shipment of sit-on-top kayaks from China. They arrested five people. The customs officials were inspecting a shipment of 27 kayaks when they discovered bundles of meth worth nearly $162 million in 19 of them. According to Australian Customs and Border Protection Service’s regional director Tim Fitzgerald, the meth was stuffed inside the hatches of the kayaks. The Australian Federal Police were able to confirm the meth came from China. The five people were identified as one Australian and four Taiwanese. Three were charged with possessing a commercial quantity of the drugs and the remaining two were charged trying to import the meth. If convicted, the culprits could be sentenced to life in prison. The last few months, Australian officials have busted a few major drug importation attempts, including one last October. The meth was hidden inside a truck’s tires and was shipped from China. It amounted to about AU$200 million. According to the National Highway Safety Administration, methamphetamine is a stimulant drug that acts on the central nervous system to induce

Walter White and Los Pollos Hermanos have nothing on the Chinese kayak industry. Officials in Sydney, Australia reported on Wednesday that police had intercepted 183 kilos of methamphetamine in a shipment of sit-on-top kayaks from China. They arrested five people.

The customs officials were inspecting a shipment of 27 kayaks when they discovered bundles of meth worth nearly $162 million in 19 of them. According to Australian Customs and Border Protection Service’s regional director Tim Fitzgerald, the meth was stuffed inside the hatches of the kayaks.

The Australian Federal Police were able to confirm the meth came from China.

The five people were identified as one Australian and four Taiwanese. Three were charged with possessing a commercial quantity of the drugs and the remaining two were charged trying to import the meth. If convicted, the culprits could be sentenced to life in prison.

The last few months, Australian officials have busted a few major drug importation attempts, including one last October. The meth was hidden inside a truck’s tires and was shipped from China. It amounted to about AU$200 million.

According to the National Highway Safety Administration, methamphetamine is a stimulant drug that acts on the central nervous system to induce euphoria, hallucinations and heightened alertness. Both it and cocaine are the most commonly abused drugs.

]]>http://www.canoekayak.com/events/kayaks-used-meth-drug-bust/feed/0Ben Marr’s Epic Surf on the Ottawahttp://www.canoekayak.com/photos/ben-marrs-epic-surf-ottawa/
http://www.canoekayak.com/photos/ben-marrs-epic-surf-ottawa/#commentsTue, 11 Feb 2014 19:10:37 +0000http://www.canoekayak.com/?p=69093About the Photo John Rathwell took the photo on May 16, 2013, one day before the Ottawa XL started. The athlete Ben Marr is surfing Ruins Wave, Ottawa River in Ottawa Ontario Canada. Rathwell always shoots a few motion blurs of big wave surfing. He loves how the slow shutter gives the viewer a better sense of the size, speed and fluidity of the wave. It is always hit or miss and a bit of luck using this technique for a photo. The shutter speed of the shot was 1/13 of a second and was hand held at 90mm. Not a particularly easy task but if you keep your elbows in and fire off a few you can make it happen. About the Photographer John Rathwell first picked up a camera after suffering a shoulder injury while whitewater kayaking on the Slave River in Canada’s Northwest Territories. With the shoulder injury forcing him to slow his paddling for a while, Rathwell took on photography. Rathwell called the Ottawa River home, where a majority of the world’s top big-wave kayakers migrate every spring. He has now established himself in the world of action sports photography, with his images published internationally in magazines

About the Photo
John Rathwell took the photo on May 16, 2013, one day before the Ottawa XL started. The athlete Ben Marr is surfing Ruins Wave, Ottawa River in Ottawa Ontario Canada.

Rathwell always shoots a few motion blurs of big wave surfing. He loves how the slow shutter gives the viewer a better sense of the size, speed and fluidity of the wave. It is always hit or miss and a bit of luck using this technique for a photo. The shutter speed of the shot was 1/13 of a second and was hand held at 90mm. Not a particularly easy task but if you keep your elbows in and fire off a few you can make it happen.

About the Photographer
John Rathwell first picked up a camera after suffering a shoulder injury while whitewater kayaking on the Slave River in Canada’s Northwest Territories. With the shoulder injury forcing him to slow his paddling for a while, Rathwell took on photography. Rathwell called the Ottawa River home, where a majority of the world’s top big-wave kayakers migrate every spring. He has now established himself in the world of action sports photography, with his images published internationally in magazines and ad campaigns for ski resorts, Red Bull and more.

Rathwell’s passion for outdoor adventure has only gotten stronger since picking up a camera. When not on assignment, Rathwell is out kayaking on the river, mountain biking in some remote destination or snowboarding anywhere he can find good snow. His passion for the outdoors can be seen in his images with his strong connections to the athletes he works with and willingness to go anywhere to get the shot. He is based out of Ottawa, Canada but when asked, John is more likely to call his car home.

]]>This story featured in the May 2013 issue of Canoe & Kayak Magazine.

Photo: Ryan Creary

By Mike Bezemek

The rapid is called Road Block, and it fits. The only more descriptive name I could think of would be Big F-ing Undercut Mid-river Rock. Road Block at least allows for imagination, and mine has been churning ever since Lewis, our local Arkansan escort, first described the upcoming hazard. The previous weekend we’d shown Lewis and his friends down Missouri’s Ozark classic, the Saint. Now they are returning the favor on Class III-IV Richland Creek.

I ask about Road Block again.

“Left or right, depending on flow,” drawls Lewis. “Today’s probably right. Hug the shore. Paddle up onto a diagonal rock. Slide down into a pool.”

He makes it sound easy.

The creek is a gem. Under a late winter sun, turquoise waters lap at limestone banks. It’s narrow and mellow for a few miles, before widening into shallow rock gardens between amphitheater cliffs. Then it’s into the gorge and a succession of fun ledge boofs. It’s almost perfect, except all the leafless trees have their tops blown off from a recent ice storm.

We weave our boats through a rocky slalom, turn a corner, and the big square boulder—a house of rock—presents itself. It’s tight in this twist of the canyon, only 25 feet across. Road Block rests atop undulating bedrock. It’s so undercut you can see downstream daylight through a gap in the middle. Showing off, the rapid tosses in a boulder-strewn sieve just upstream.

I grab an eddy and watch the first seven paddlers in our 10-boat party slide onto the diagonal rock and shimmy down the slot out of sight. The move isn’t too crazy, and the current is manageable.

Lewis’s buddy Jeffrey is ahead of me. A tall guy with crooked teeth filling a big smile, he’s looked unsteady all day. He takes a few tentative strokes toward the right slot, hesitates, and then broadsides the guard rock.
Everything slows to a horrific crawl.

Jeffrey’s boat teeters. Then it pivots back and is sucked into the current. Water catches Jeffrey’s edge, and he flips. He tracks right into the sieve. His upside-down kayak—him inside—jerks to a halt directly upstream of the undercut.

I freeze for a moment, put my whistle to my lips, and huff three shrill blasts. My stomach sinks. My paddle grip tightens. I’m the only witness—I’ve never seen a pin like this.

“There’s a trapped paddler!” I shout back at Blake. He’s not my first choice for rescue partner. A bit more talk than walk. I zip out of the eddy, drop down the left bank, and paddle hard onto a gravel beach. I hop out and grab my throw-rope. I wave at people downstream to take up position on the opposite cliff. Maybe we can try a drag-line?

I’m 25 feet from Jeffrey. I see ripples of movement under the water. He’s squirming. His boat shudders and settles. A red snake that is Jeffrey shoots out through the rocks. He bends around a boulder which shunts his body away from the undercut portal into a narrow chute. The river spits him into the pool below. I blink incredulously. Downstream, Jeffrey swims to the left shore and crawls onto the bank.

Time returns to normal.

I relax. Breath. I’m clutching the throwbag so tight my fingers are locked up. Everything is going to be fine. He’s okay.
Blake paddles onto the beach and exits his boat.

“He’s out,” I explain. “He was in there, but he’s out.”

Some paddlers clamber up the right cliff to see about retrieving the boat.

Blake takes a step into the river. “Live bait,” he says, watching the boat wedged into rocks. “You can lower me down to it.”
I stare at him, as time rushes forward like water through that sieve.

Ten years in whitewater, and I still slip right past good decisions and have to kick myself later. Earlier this season, three of us stood at the Upper Saint put-in at dusk, watching brown water on the rise. We might not make it out before dark. But we drove all this way. We put on, and right away I misjudged a ferry at Entrance Rapid and pinned momentarily against a tree-trunk newly lodged in the willows. The trunk began to rotate. I began to freak out. I pushed off hard, nearly flipped, and was blown free by the current.

Afterward, I counted four decision points, and four bad choices: We had pushed for a second lap, despite the late hour; we set shuttle for a full run, not wanting to miss a mile of river; at the put-in we dismissed the gaining darkness; and entering the rapid, I locked into my regular high-water route, barely squinting a boat scout. We made it down fine, but at what cost if not?

With his eyes on the pinned kayak, Blake reaches behind his back and carabiners his throw-rope to the steel ring of his rescue vest.
“What?” I’m shocked.
He hands me the rope.
“It’s not worth it,” I say.
“It’ll be fine, man. Come on.”

Miles and years from Nowhereville High, peer pressure is alive and well. I really wish there were more people on this beach right now.
A few years prior on the Little River in North Carolina, Blake took a blind turn toward a side-channel. “Might be blocked,” shouted another boater. Blake waved him off, ferried into the channel, and spied it like he was debating—already fully committed. There could be anything over there. A cross-river tree. A sieve. There could be a frickin’ grizzly bear. Even if there’s only one in the Appalachians, reintroduced by a traveling circus of crazies, if you don’t know, don’t go.

I’m reminded of that unnecessary risk Blake had taken as I eye his rope in my hands. He’s leapfrogged onto some mid-river rocks, surveying a spot to dive into the river. I have to say something.

“Blake!” I shout.
He looks back at me. “Get planted,” he says.

I shake my head. I want to say, ‘I’m not willing to do this,’ but worry that will just lead to an argument. “I can’t hold you myself,” I try.
He shakes his head and storms back across the rocks toward me. He glances across the river where our group is gauging the situation.

“We need to hurry,” he says.
I shake my head. “Why?”
“Need to get the boat out.”
This isn’t about the boat anymore.
“We got this!” Blake shouts at the group on the rock.
“How?” shouts Timbo, one of the veterans. Any respect not afforded me, I hope is reserved for Timbo.
“Swim.” Blake undulates his arms.

Portaging kayakers approach through the forest. A massive calf sticks out from the trees, followed by a sturdy paddler who glances around. “Everyone alright?” Just his presence seems to thicken time like molasses.

“So far,” I say.
“Passing through, then, if you don’t need a hand.”
I pull the sturdy fella aside. “You know this river?”
“Sure do.”
“He wants to swim for the boat,” I say.
The sturdy fella looks at Blake, who is standing partway into the pool.
“That’s an undercut,” shouts Sturdy. “You don’t want anything in there.”

Blake tosses his hands up and lets them fall to his sides. He seems skeptical, but approaching resignation.
“It’s just a hunk of plastic,” the stranger concludes before continuing his portage through the trees.

Timbo leads the rescue from up on the right cliff. Eventually we get a line across the river with Timbo on one end and me on the other. Blake decides not to help. We carabiner a weighted bag to partially sink the rope, and try to float it underneath the pinned kayak. Each time we pull, the rope slips off the boat, which settles back under a thin sheet of current. The guys on the cliff suggest pulling both ends of the rope from their higher perch. I hurl my end up to them, and they give the rope a big pull. The kayak lurches out of the river, but the rope slips free. The boat settles a few feet downstream in a deeper part of the chute.
Blake eyes the still-stuck boat like a retriever about to dive after a steak.

“It’s just a hunk of plastic,” I say, feeling my calves thicken slightly from the big fella’s wisdom.
Suddenly, the kayak vibrates, wiggles, rattles over some rocks, and whisks into the pool below.

Jeffrey walks away with some bumps and bruises and a terrifying memory he’ll never forget; the lesson ingrained in the rest of us.
Another hunk of plastic saved. At such little cost.

]]>http://www.canoekayak.com/whitewater-kayak/kayak-carnage-lesson-just-hunk-plastic/feed/1Wilderness First Aid: Shoulder Dislocationhttp://www.canoekayak.com/skills/deal-paddlings-common-injury/
http://www.canoekayak.com/skills/deal-paddlings-common-injury/#commentsWed, 05 Feb 2014 13:00:41 +0000http://www.canoekayak.com/?p=67463By Grant Lipman One of the most common dislocations is the shoulder. This is especially true for paddling. The following offers a simple breakdown of what a shoulder dislocation looks like and how to relieve it. This instructional is not a substitute for actual wilderness first aid training, which we highly recommend all paddlers pursue. All dislocations may be associated with a broken bone. Consider reducing a dislocation if you have specific training in the technique and if the patient is amenable to an attempt. Also, evaluate other factors, such as the time it will take to reach medical help, and whether the victim can get off the river by walking or riding in a raft, or whether they will have to paddle. In general, both the difficulty of reduction and the amount of long-term complications increase the longer you delay the attempt to reduce the dislocation. Always check CSM—circulation (pinking of nail bed after pressure should take < 3 sec), sensation (dull vs. sharp differentiation), and movement—and note if this changes after the reduction attempt. All dislocation/reduction attempts should be done with calm and reassuring voice, applying slow, gentle, and constant effort (traction). If you encounter pain or resistance, go

One of the most common dislocations is the shoulder. This is especially true for paddling. The following offers a simple breakdown of what a shoulder dislocation looks like and how to relieve it. This instructional is not a substitute for actual wilderness first aid training, which we highly recommend all paddlers pursue.

All dislocations may be associated with a broken bone. Consider reducing a dislocation if you have specific training in the technique and if the patient is amenable to an attempt. Also, evaluate other factors, such as the time it will take to reach medical help, and whether the victim can get off the river by walking or riding in a raft, or whether they will have to paddle. In general, both the difficulty of reduction and the amount of long-term complications increase the longer you delay the attempt to reduce the dislocation. Always check CSM—circulation (pinking of nail bed after pressure should take < 3 sec), sensation (dull vs. sharp differentiation), and movement—and note if this changes after the reduction attempt. All dislocation/reduction attempts should be done with calm and reassuring voice, applying slow, gentle, and constant effort (traction). If you encounter pain or resistance, go slower, maintaining constant traction and calming voice.

– Sit the injured person down with bent knees.
– Clasp both their hands around knees and have them lean back, slowly, until
shoulder spontaneously reduces.

Shoulder reduction by knee-wrap technique

Tree-hug reduction technique

– Have the injured person wrap their arms around a slender tree (hugging it).
– Clasp both their hands around trunk and have them lean back, slowly, until
shoulder spontaneously reduces.

Shoulder reduction by tree-hug technique

Grant S Lipman, MD, FACEP, FAWM is the clinical assistant professor of Surgery/Emergency Medicine at the Stanford University School of Medicine. He offers information on common paddling-related injuries and how to handle them. For more in-depth information, you can click hereto purchase his print book The Wilderness First Aid book or a downloadable app.

]]>http://www.canoekayak.com/skills/deal-paddlings-common-injury/feed/16 Steps to Finish Your Epic Journeyhttp://www.canoekayak.com/travel/6-steps-finish-epic/
http://www.canoekayak.com/travel/6-steps-finish-epic/#commentsTue, 04 Feb 2014 00:00:33 +0000http://www.canoekayak.com/?p=68571Darrell Gardner did an 8.5-year, 6,000-mile expedition from the Mexico border to the Arctic Ocean, including an epic kayak journey. Here's how he did it.

Gardner at the Yukon River locks on the canoe leg of his 6,000-mile journey. Photo: Darrell Gardner

Conor Mihell

Darrell Gardner is an overachiever. How else to describe the 8.5-year, 6,000-mile expedition from the Mexico border to the Arctic Ocean he completed last year? When he started in 2004 at age 50, Gardner was an outdoor enthusiast but by no means an expert. He’d dabbled in backpacking, spent a few hours in aluminum canoes and he’d had a harrowing experience whitewater kayaking in New Zealand. He dreamed of hiking the 2,700-mile Pacific Crest Trail. But once completed, that success only led to more route dreams: canoeing the Skagit River to Puget Sound; sea kayaking the Inside Passage to Skagway; Alaska; crossing into Canada on foot on the Chilkoot Trail; canoeing the Yukon River; trekking across the Brooks Range; and then hiking and packrafting to the polar sea, west of Prudhoe Bay. So he set off and did it.

The kicker? Gardner, now 59, pulled off this epic journey largely under the radar and with minimal sponsor support, piecing together expeditions between short-term contracts as a registered nurse in his hometown of Santa Fe, New Mexico. Here’s how he did it.

Inspiration “Working in acute care has given me the unique opportunity to be with people in their darkest moments,” says Gardner. “On of the things I found out early on has become a common thread: There’s a sense of lament in people when they realize they are never going to be able to do something again. That really struck a note with me.”

Logistics “I thought, ‘Hmm, if I have this idea, maybe I should act on it when I have the opportunity, the strength and the enthusiasm to do it,’” he says. “I hiked the Pacific Crest Trail from Mexico to Canada. Then I thought, ‘I love Alaska. Why not find a unique way to get there?’”

Execution Casual employment is Gardner’s key. “I work as a per diem nurse,” he says. “The downside is I don’t have a medical or dental plan, but the upside is the flexibility to come and go. I got jobs, worked like crazy, saved money and lived simply, and then went off and did another stage of the expedition.”

Secret Weapon Sea kayaking the Inside Passage was Gardner’s most audacious move. He had no ocean paddling experience when he bumped into Seattle-based instructor Bob Burnett. “He took an interest in my trip and offered to help me get ready for it,” says Gardner. “He coached me through a whole year of preparation to have the skills and confidence to do it. I spent all of 2007 between Santa Fe and Seattle, contract nursing and taking all the extra time I could to paddle with Bob.”

Persistence Even with the training, the Inside Passage proved to be a “serious challenge,” says Gardner. “I paddled most of the Inside Passage in 2008, the coldest, wettest, windiest summer in 30 years.” He soldiered on, finishing 2009, “the warmest, driest, calmest summer ever in 30 years.” Gardner demonstrated the same indefatigability on the home stretch, hauling a laden toboggan up steep and snowy pipeline grades to reach the foot of the Brooks Range.

Payoff “The final miles were surreal,” says Gardner, who reached Arctic tidewater on August 30, 2012. “I realized, ‘Damn, I did it!’ It’s an amazing feeling to look at a map of North America knowing I have a personal connection to a huge part of the continent.”

A late-summer, low-water run of Idaho’s Middle Fork Salmon provided the ideal conditions for testing out Jackson’s devout river-running design. Ideal meant long days to run through over 100 fun river miles of Class II-IV wilderness whitewater.

And getting into any high-mileage paddling day, normally I’d pull over ahead of the raft support to stretch out my legs. But many miles into my first day in JK’s larger 70-gallon Fun Runner, I had a revelation about this boat’s comfort: I didn’t even bother to jump out of the boat to relieve myself. Rather, I just caught an eddy and popped the sprayskirt. The long hull features a comfy seat and higher knee position that coaxes you to keep put, and then snaps to life with more aggressive strokes, shifting from downriver cruising to slice-and-dice through lateral waves, easily catching that wave on the fly. Every wave, that is—and ones you might never catch in a larger-volume boat.

“I was reassessing smaller waves that you wouldn’t even be looking out for otherwise,” one typical creekboat tester said.
And therein lies the Fun Runner’s main problem. When regrouping with the rafts, there were way too many potential testers wanting to hop in and try it out for themselves.

“Dude, I’d be fighting to get in that thing for a Grand trip,” the same eager tester said. Chalk that desire up to length plus an edge that follows through under the seat, which translates to easy acceleration and tracking. Again, expect to catch waves.
Surfing the Fun Runner though, we’re talking ‘on-axis.’ No aerial linked corkscrew bread and butter McNasty-nothings. But for the vast majority of horizontally inclined front-and back-surfing, flat-spinning, rock-splatting, stern-squirting paddlers, the combination of wave carving plus hull speed will provide plenty of entertainment.

“I just like to cruise downriver and catch eddies and grind on rocks and stuff,” he said. “It carves very precisely, on a line, with the rails. You lean forward just a little bit to sink the nose and it goes as straight as an arrow; lean back just a little, those rails catch and you carve.”

That planing hull continues up through the nose, but doesn’t have a ton of rocker, so one downside noted by creekboating paddlers was is in the boofing department. Others from the playboating-averse side of the aisle noted the design could use a little less volume in the bow and especially in the stern.

But every tester eventually met somewhere in the middle, deciding that Jackson’s on to something with this combination of sporty and roomy. — DS

]]>
http://www.canoekayak.com/gear/jackson-fun-runner-70/feed/0March 2014http://www.canoekayak.com/magazine/march-2014/
http://www.canoekayak.com/magazine/march-2014/#commentsWed, 22 Jan 2014 00:23:25 +0000http://www.canoekayak.com/?p=67931Foreword The Big One Crossing Baffin Welcome to the burliest double-date ever. Put In Family Matters Aquaphile The Art of the Hitch Gear Back to Classics

Foreword

Crossing Baffin

Put In

Aquaphile

Gear

]]>http://www.canoekayak.com/magazine/march-2014/feed/0The Sable Crossinghttp://www.canoekayak.com/touring-kayaks/crossing-canadas-newest-national-park/
http://www.canoekayak.com/touring-kayaks/crossing-canadas-newest-national-park/#commentsTue, 21 Jan 2014 13:00:20 +0000http://www.canoekayak.com/?p=67765Conor Mihell A crescent of sand over 120 miles off the coast of Nova Scotia has legendary status in the Canadian Maritimes. Sable Island is known as the “Graveyard of the Atlantic.” Pieces of the Andrea Gail, a fishing vessel that sunk in 1991’s “Perfect Storm,” were discovered on the island—adding to its infamy in maritime lore. Measuring around 28 miles in length, Sable is the world’s largest sandbar; for its unique ecological community of birds, wild horses, rare plants and marine mammals, it officially became Canada’s newest national park in December 2013. Sable Island has fascinated Halifax, Nova Scotia-based sea kayak guide and recreational therapist Jan-Sebastian LaPierre since he was a child. “You hear all these fanciful tales about this remote island in the middle of the Atlantic,” says LaPierre, 30. “I started to wonder if you could paddle out there. With the right team and the right training it seemed doable.” Putting together the team was easy. Fellow kayak guide Graham Carter first dismissed his friend’s notion of making the big crossing to Sable Island as crazy. “But we started talking about it year after year,” says Carter, 28, who works as a junior high teacher, “and I finally

A crescent of sand over 120 miles off the coast of Nova Scotia has legendary status in the Canadian Maritimes. Sable Island is known as the “Graveyard of the Atlantic.” Pieces of the Andrea Gail, a fishing vessel that sunk in 1991’s “Perfect Storm,” were discovered on the island—adding to its infamy in maritime lore. Measuring around 28 miles in length, Sable is the world’s largest sandbar; for its unique ecological community of birds, wild horses, rare plants and marine mammals, it officially became Canada’s newest national park in December 2013.

Sable Island has fascinated Halifax, Nova Scotia-based sea kayak guide and recreational therapist Jan-Sebastian LaPierre since he was a child. “You hear all these fanciful tales about this remote island in the middle of the Atlantic,” says LaPierre, 30. “I started to wonder if you could paddle out there. With the right team and the right training it seemed doable.”

Putting together the team was easy. Fellow kayak guide Graham Carter first dismissed his friend’s notion of making the big crossing to Sable Island as crazy. “But we started talking about it year after year,” says Carter, 28, who works as a junior high teacher, “and I finally said I would do whatever it took to paddle out there.”

They started planning the mission last winter. First, a number of permissions had to be secured—from Transport Canada, the Coast Guard, Parks Canada and other agencies—to gain access to the island, which has long been restricted from unauthorized access by federal legislation. They decided to attempt the crossing in a tandem sea kayak. “We knew it would take 24- to 30 hours and that we’d face two- to three-metre (six- to 10-foot) seas and winds up to 30 knots,” says LaPierre. “We wanted the extra power to push through swells. The tandem ensured our safety plan was bulletproof.”

Photo: Chris Surette

Besides LaPierre and Carter, the team also consisted of videographers Jarrett Corke and Chris Surette; kinesiologist Jeff Zahavich served as a conditioning coach. From the outset, the goal use the crossing as a conduit to raise awareness of the role of outdoor adventure in mental health and funds for nonprofits Brigadoon Village, which provides summer camps for youth with chronic illnesses, and Chisholm Services for Children, an early intervention program for children who have been exposed to trauma.

On August 14, LaPierre and Carter saw an acceptable weather window: Southwesterly winds and a “nominal” sea state, with winds forecast to switch to tailwinds partway through the crossing. They began the 120-mile crossing from Canso, Nova Scotia, at 5 a.m. “We experienced a whole spectrum of emotions” over the course of the 29-hour crossing,” says LaPierre. “At times we laughed ourselves to tears. Everything was good when the sun was out, but during the night it got creepy.”

“It’s pretty crazy how black it is after nightfall when you’re out in the middle of the ocean,” adds Carter. “There’s always a bit of ambient light on land. But there’s just nothing out there.”

LaPierre and Carter knew they were getting close when the chilly water of the east coast was replaced by the warm Gulf Stream. Sable’s sand dunes emerged from the sea and the pair negotiated the island’s perpetual surf zone to land on a seal-covered beach. LaPierre admits Sable will never be a destination for sea kayakers—the island has no easy landings and unless you’re willing (and allowed) to make the epic crossing, it costs visitors a fortune to get there by aircraft. But he says it’s a worthy setting for a national park. “As far as the eye can see it’s just one big sand dune,” says LaPierre. “There’s no shelter—no coves. It’s beautiful, but extreme.”

The pair received a hero’s welcome upon their return (by lobster boat) to the mainland. “To the local fishermen, our kayak looked like a tiny raft,” laughs LaPierre. “There was a lot of skepticism. But when we got back, all the skeptics were there to shake our hands.”

]]>http://www.canoekayak.com/touring-kayaks/crossing-canadas-newest-national-park/feed/0Happy Canoe Year!http://www.canoekayak.com/adventure-2/happy-canoe-year-2/
http://www.canoekayak.com/adventure-2/happy-canoe-year-2/#commentsWed, 01 Jan 2014 10:00:21 +0000http://www.canoekayak.com/?p=67321We’ve scoured the country to find the most ardent group of New Years Day paddlers we could, who every year ring in the new year with a dip of the paddle blade.

Okay, okay, we know it’s cliché. But we couldn’t help saying it. And to make amends, we’ve scoured the country to find the most ardent group of New Years Day paddlers we could, who year in and year out turn off the simmering black-eyed peas for a moment to ring in the new year with a dip of the paddle blade. Who gets our coveted New Years Day Paddlers award? Hint: It’s a group of whacko’s in the Windy City, who have now been canoeing and sea kayaking to celebrate the start of the year for 20 years …

Yep, leave it to Chicagoans to brave the elements and hit the water every New Year’s Day, an annual outing that this year celebrates its 20th anniversary. Founded in 1985 by none other than famed canoe historian Ralph Frese, this year’s New Year’s Day Canoe Paddle down the North Branch of the Chicago River will again take place on Jan. 1, marking a whopping two decades of the annual, bone-chilling float.

Hosted by the Forest Preserves of Cook County with help from the Illinois Paddling Association and Prairie State Canoeists, the free event is open to experienced paddlers of all walks and is guaranteed to earn you a leg up over your peers for those bent on counting paddling days “I’ve joined in the New Year’s paddle twice and it’s one of my favorite events that I look forward to every year,” says FPCC president Toni Preckwinkle. “Despite the obvious challenges of gearing up on a cold New Year’s morning, the paddle attracts hundreds of hardy folks. Winding through wooded winter preserves is the perfect way to start the year with a fresh perspective.”

The event draws nearly 300 people each year, all with the same goal of hitting the water while most other people’s canoes and kayaks are gathering dust in the garage. The paddle begins below the Skokie Lagoons and finishes four miles later in Linne Woods. The only caveats are that participants must bring their own boats and PFDs and dress in appropriate paddlesports apparel (all participants get checked for proper clothing and equipment before launching).

The trip begins in Winnetka, east of the Edens, just north of the intersection of Willow Road and Forestway Drive. Access to the boat launch is via the Willow Road Dam. The trip ends at the Linne Woods Canoe Access a few hundred yards downstream from the horse bridge in Linne Woods in Morton Grove, on Dempster Street at Ferris Ave. Boats launch between 9 and 11 am. Participants should drop their gear at the Willow Road Dam and then drive their cars to the Linne Woods take-out where shuttle buses will provide transportation from 8 am – 2pm (organizers ask that participants allow 45 to 60 minutes for the shuttle and three hours for the paddle).

To ring in the new year paddling-style, revelers can warm up at Linne Woods afterwards with hot beverages, a snack and fire. “It’s a great way to start the year off,” says Preckwinkle. “It can be a bit chilly sometimes, but that’s Chicago in the winter. And it’s never stopped us yet”

Runner-ups

Supping North Carolina
Not to be outdone, in North Carolina a band of SUP paddlers gets together every year for a traditional New Year’s Day paddle around Wilmington’s Harbor Island, complete with a potluck afterward. The trip is led by Jason Colclough of the Carolina PaddleBoard Company, which also offers rentals and even loaners for the event.Info: www.carolinapasddle.com, (910) 679-4473

Kayaking the Colorado’s Shoshone (Shoshone NYD)
Paddlers have been running the Shoshone section of the Colorado River on New Year’s Day for as long as anyone can remember, thanks largely to its consistent whitewater. This year’s outing will be led by Peter Holcombe, 41, who’s done it every New Years since 2006. Participants have numbered from the teens on colder days (like when it was 7 degrees in 2011) on up to 70 last year, with even more expected this year thanks to Holcombe’s social networking on outlets like mountainbuzz.com. “It’s gotten to be my favorite day of paddling of the year,” says local Ken Holcombe, who usually shows up on a SUP.Info: www.facebook.com/ShoshoneNYD.

Bluegrass Canoe & Kayak Group
If it sounds loosely organized, it is. But a lot of that is due to the conditions in Kentucky. Every year, though, a group gets together to ring in the new year in their boats, despite a web post reading: “We’ll paddle a TBD body of water on New Year’s Day. Depending on where that is, maybe a pot luck, maybe some drinks/lunch somewhere afterward.” “Mostly we do out and backs from one put-in/take-out,” says co-organizer Don Perkins. “If we’re going point to point, we normally set shuttle” The reason for the last-minuteness of the location is water levels. The Kentucky River can get a bit iffy due to rain and high water, he says, with Cedar Creek Lake a second option.Info: http://www.meetup.com/Blugrass-Canoe-and-Kayak-Group/messages/boards/thread/38771132

]]>http://www.canoekayak.com/canoe/boating-milestones/feed/2High Fives and Party Waves Physical Therapyhttp://www.canoekayak.com/adventure-2/party-wave-high-fives/
http://www.canoekayak.com/adventure-2/party-wave-high-fives/#commentsFri, 20 Dec 2013 13:00:35 +0000http://www.canoekayak.com/?p=66365To those athletes who lose the sport they love to paralyzing injury, High Fives Foundation offers a new sport in surfing and physical therapy.

“Thank you Roy. Thanks for making me go out.” The sincerity in his eyes and contentment in his smile said it all.

After a 16-hour drive from Truckee, Calif. to San Clemente, Calif.; three days of roasting in the sun at the beach; late nights around the campfire; hours of paddling, surfing and repeatedly getting worked, Landon had made it clear that he would rather take a nap than paddle back out for one last session. Like a father whose years have taught him a thing or two, Roy Tuscany, the founder of the High Fives Foundation, wouldn’t have it. “Put your wetsuit on and get your ass in the water. You’re going out.” That was that.

Landon McGauly, or Lando as we call him, is a 17-year-old Canadian from Quesnel B.C. who was on the path to becoming a professional mountain biker. An unfortunate accident during a race when he was 15 left Lando paralyzed from the waist down, but his positive and innocent demeanor doesn’t let that stop him. “My legs don’t work, so what! My head does. It’s still me, just sitting.” That same positive outlook in spite of his injury is what landed him little brother status with the High Fives Foundation, a Truckee, Calif.-based non-profit that helps injured athletes get back to the adventure sports that they love.

The High Fives Foundation has become an integral part of the Truckee / Tahoe community by organizing fun action-oriented events as a means for people to actively participate in the community. The money raised helps fund alternative treatments to aid in the recovery of their athletes as well as trips like this San Onofre surf mission.

Paddling out with the High Fives crew, Roy, Lando, Steve Wallace, John Davis, Danny Toumarkine and the beautiful Taylor Fiddyment was an honor. Almost all were injured doing the action sports they love, and yet each one has a more positive outlook on life than any able-bodied person I know.

Few of them had ever been in the ocean, and surfing was considered unattainable after their injuries. With legendary shaper Steve Boehne from Infinity boards and John Davis, an accomplished wave skier, as guides, these guys learned how to read the ocean, get into position, paddle and actually catch waves. Not only catch waves, but ride waves. And that was all in their first session.

Watching the drive and commitment they had to get after it was overwhelming. Imagine being on the inside and facing a 10-wave set on your first time out. Factor in that you don’t know much about the ocean or the craft you are on and that you can’t use your legs to aid in your own rescue and board and paddle recovery.

Then imagine seeing Lando pop over a passing roller after his royal beat down looking a bit disheveled and out of whack, but glowing with accomplishment and self-reliance, making sure to get into position for the next wave. I have seen a lot in my life as a surfer, but those moments broke me down to my very core; lump in my throat, tears on my cheeks and pride that I will never be able to fully describe.

After each epic effort, we all sat outside talking about how each wave was better than the last. Then one by one and a lot of times two or three at a time, we would all catch a wave. Solo waves, party waves, it didn’t matter. There was no feeling of ownership in the water, no right to any one wave or another. The only feeling was of positive encouragement backed up by a lot of high fives, whoops and yeaaaaahs! The enthusiasm and stoke were all encompassing and contagious enough to spread to other surfers outside of our group. Pretty soon, we had other surfers joining in with genuine curiosity and appreciation for the feeling being shared. The feeling was too good, and they wanted a piece of it too.

This feeling was never more present than during the last sunset session in which Roy forced Lando to paddle out one more time. Roy is the king of positivity, and he seemed to know what was best for Landon, and what was best for all of us. That evening Landon caught more waves than anyone at the beach. He found that place where everything is in harmony and you become a part of the elemental balance of your environment.

Landon was the last one to come in that night, long after the golden southern California sun had set and the last diehard local surfer had called it a day. He wasn’t even a silhouette on the water by the time he made it to the beach. Aside from the white board that gave him an opportunity to find his place in the ocean, the only thing visible was Landon’s white-toothed smile and wide eyes.

I have always known that a smile and a good attitude go a long way, but I never knew how far until this trip. In three short days, they changed everything about how I perceive myself and my own capabilities. They showed me that you really can do anything you put your mind and heart into, that you can choose to share in this life with others through positivity and that the combination of those two will elevate every aspect of your own experience. And it can be as simple as shelling out a high five and a smile.

These experiences introduce their athletes to new adventure-adaptive sports they may have never known existed. Part of the healing process is regaining a healthy perspective and through friendships, new sports and lots of high fives.

]]>http://www.canoekayak.com/adventure-2/party-wave-high-fives/feed/0Yak About Adventures, A New Zealand Roadiehttp://www.canoekayak.com/adventure-2/yak-adventures-new-zealand-roadie/
http://www.canoekayak.com/adventure-2/yak-adventures-new-zealand-roadie/#commentsWed, 18 Dec 2013 18:41:21 +0000http://www.canoekayak.com/?p=66879Kayaker Jaime Sharp wants his series on kayak New Zealand to answer humanity's oldest question: "why do we choose the paths we do and what gives us meaning?"

Kayaker Jaime Sharp heads to New Zealand with some of the Pygmy Boats crew, including the founder’s daughter and photographer Freya Fennwood, to film the area and local boaters for a paddling video series. The goal Sharp has for the series, “Yak About Adventures, a New Zealand Roadie,” is to answer one of humanity’s oldest questions: “why do we choose the paths we do and what gives us meaning?” Sharp hopes to offer some answers from the perspective of kayakers who spend their lives paddling rivers and coastlines around the world.

The series will begin by highlighting New Zealand as a premiere paddling destination. Sharp and his team will interview kayakers about their favorite rivers, lakes or coastlines and their philosophies about their lives as paddlers. The team will also spotlight New Zealand’s iconic boating companies such as the Bliss-Stick factory, River Valley lodge, and Sea Kayak guiding outfits.

CanoeKayak.com got in touch with Sharp to ask him about his ambitious project and the kickstarter he started to make the video series a reality. Here’s what he had to say:

CanoeKayak.com: What inspired this project?
Jaime Sharp: The concept had been in my head for a couple of years. This past year as I traveled between Costa Rica, Norway, Namibia, BC Canada, Nova Scotia Canada, USA ( twice to run the Grand Canyon and to attend various boat shows), Germany and the United Kingdom. I started to realize what a unique position I was in to tell stories of living the life of the paddle. I started talking about this possibility with people like Jeff Allen, Justine Curgenven, Jon Turk, Paul Kuthe and many others. They all seemed to love the idea, and many had thought of similar concepts though had not done it yet.

I was tentative to do it as I had did not have the funds myself, nor did I have that unique angle yet to direct the project. I knew part of it would be about blending both whitewater and sea kayaking stories and breaking the stigmas that each had been stuck with for a while (young whitewater hooligan, and old grey-bearded sea kayakers). But I also wanted to pay tribute to the origins of those stigmas, and the characters who embrace them.

When did you decide you were, in fact, going to go for it with this project?
About two months ago when I returned to New Zealand, it became apparent that I had a window to start this project. I quickly talked ideas out with some backers and supporters. I realized I was really in a great position to be able to be with and talk frankly about the joys and hardships of such a life with other individuals who followed that calling. The story became about embracing the way of the paddle and telling my story as someone who has struggled with “the addiction to kayaking” all his life. Then I thought, what greater place to start the series but New Zealand? It’s my home land, where I started paddling and a country full of amazing paddlers and places to paddle.

What have been the major challenges you’ve come across?
The main challenge here has been money and time. Sometimes you get thrown an opportunity and you have a very small window of time to decide whether it can be taken advantage of. By the time I had discovered I could make this work, there were literally only five weeks before I had to leave to NZ, and it was apparent we needed money. Kickstarter was recommended numerous times as a great way to get this going, and I put together the campaign. Meanwhile in the background Freya and her coworker Laura Prendergrast jumped in as the film crew, sponsors came on board with some money and lots of gear, and there was huge interest and support for this project. Well, I committed and so did my crew. I am now in NZ and the next hurdle is getting the van we need to get around with, and to tie down dates and times with all the people we would like to feature.

The Iron X is the lowest-priced camera in our test sample, and it provides high-definition POV performance at the relatively affordable entry point of about $250. Producing decent HD footage, this iron in the fire comes with its included water housing good to 180 feet, but it doesn’t have the bells and whistles offered by its competitors—though it does shoot full HD (1080p), and 720p at 60fps. The Iron X includes a remote-control wrist strap as well as WiFi compatibility.

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http://www.canoekayak.com/gear/iron-x-dxg-5g9v-hd/feed/0C&K’s Ultimate POV Camera Reviewhttp://www.canoekayak.com/gear/ultimate-pov-cameras/
http://www.canoekayak.com/gear/ultimate-pov-cameras/#commentsTue, 17 Dec 2013 01:30:40 +0000http://www.canoekayak.com/?p=66641This fall, the team at Canoe & Kayak subjected the newest and best waterproof POV cameras to a side-by-side comparison. We wanted to focus our test on how these cameras work in real-world paddling situations, without relying on tables full of specs and arcane tech jargon. We wanted to let the cameras speak for themselves through the quality of their imagery. So we made a six-camera mount out of PVC and zip ties, and went paddling. Our review speaks not only to the image quality that the different cameras produce, but also their ergonomics and whether we think they are a good choice for paddle sports. After several weeks of sea kayaking and whitewater paddling with these cams, we feel we have a good idea on what each of them has to offer. Please, watch our review to learn more, then click the cameras below to read individual reviews and view a full-frame sample clip. Don’t forget that these are just our opinions, and we would like to hear what you have to say as well. —Aaron Schmidt CLICK A CAMERA BELOW TO READ THE REVIEW AND VIEW A FULL-FRAME SAMPLE CLIP GoPro 3 + Black Edition Sony Action Cam

This fall, the team at Canoe & Kayak subjected the newest and best waterproof POV cameras to a side-by-side comparison. We wanted to focus our test on how these cameras work in real-world paddling situations, without relying on tables full of specs and arcane tech jargon. We wanted to let the cameras speak for themselves through the quality of their imagery. So we made a six-camera mount out of PVC and zip ties, and went paddling.

Our review speaks not only to the image quality that the different cameras produce, but also their ergonomics and whether we think they are a good choice for paddle sports. After several weeks of sea kayaking and whitewater paddling with these cams, we feel we have a good idea on what each of them has to offer. Please, watch our review to learn more, then click the cameras below to read individual reviews and view a full-frame sample clip. Don’t forget that these are just our opinions, and we would like to hear what you have to say as well. —Aaron Schmidt

CLICK A CAMERA BELOW TO READ THE REVIEW AND VIEW A FULL-FRAME SAMPLE CLIP

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http://www.canoekayak.com/gear/ultimate-pov-cameras/feed/5Drift HD Ghosthttp://www.canoekayak.com/gear/drift-hd-ghost/
http://www.canoekayak.com/gear/drift-hd-ghost/#commentsTue, 17 Dec 2013 00:30:31 +0000http://www.canoekayak.com/?p=66651Drift HD Ghost has a lens that is the device’s best feature, built from Drift’s patented “Gorilla Glass” and adjustable to compensate for unleveled mounting.

With a 300-degree rotating lens, two-way remote control and LCD screen, the Drift HD Ghost comes prepared to go to work. By far the biggest camera we tested, the Ghost’s lens is the device’s best feature, built from Drift’s patented “Gorilla Glass” and adjustable to compensate for unleveled mounting. With size comes perks like the built-in LCD screen, offering users a intuitive menu and easy framing of shots. Big props as well for a remote control that tells you when the camera is recording from a distance— a plus for remote shooting. There’s WiFi, external mic compatibility and a start/stop button that’s hard to use. Image quality was fine but users wanting high-quality slow motion will want to look elsewhere, as the camera shoots only 720p at 60fps.

Sleek, sturdy and lightweight, this waterproof camera is bullet-shaped in contrast to the boxy forms of others. Easy to operate one-handed with a simple toggle switch to start and stop recording, the Ion Air Pro 2 offers users WiFi compatibility, a headphone jack and waterproof usage up to 30 feet. The footage we got from the camera produced natural colors, although at times struggled to maintain highlight and shadow detail. Although capable of shooting in a variety of modes, you’ll need the wireless app or a computer loaded with the included software to change them, but this probably isn’t a concern for users that only want to shoot one type of video on the fly. And while the version we tested doesn’t offer 1080p at 60fps, ION has just released a third-generation version of this camera that does.

]]>Eddy, the beloved boating guru in Canoe & Kayak’s print magazine, has come to life on the website. This story featured in the August 2008 issue and was written by Frederick Reimers and Sam Moulton.

Illustration by Aaron McKinney

Will homeowner’s insurance cover stolen paddling gear?
In April, deranged miscreants jacked dear reader Amy Shipman’s kayak and gear as she and a friend were walking the shuttle on Oregon’s Kalama River. After the theft, she called her insurance company. The soulless corporate profit machine (State Farm, in case you decide to cancel your policy after Eddy finishes dishing this expose) refused to pay up, even though Amy’s agent had assured her when she bought the policy that her beloved whitewater kayak would be covered. Shipman’s main advice was to work with an independent agent. Enter Travis Dolling, of Dolling Insurance in Portland, Oregon, who brokers policies for several different companies, including some ethical ones. Dolling says most homeowner and renter policies cover theft and loss on canoes, kayaks and rafts—standard coverage for sporting gear losses away from home is $1,500—but in Amy’s case State Farm slipped the watercraft boilerplate out of the fine print. He says boaters should watch out for that trick, and consider adding a rider to increase their coverage. Some companies even offer liability insurance on canoes and kayaks, which would have come in handy that time Eddy lost a tandem canoe and an Adirondack chair off the roof of his rig on I-90. The moral: Be sure to ask a lot of questions up front, and bring in photos of the boats you want covered. Those cubicle clowns don’t know the difference between your Chestnut Prospector and a waterski boat, and the premiums could be quite different. For his part, Eddy decided to double the coverage on his most-prized piece of paddling gear: the wetsuit vest worn by Burt Reynolds in Deliverance.

What’s the best way to remove a leech?
Mark Siddall, head of the leech lab at the American Museum of Natural History in New York, has studied these blood-sucking worms in Madagascar, Australia, and Argentina. Whatever you do, he says, don’t yank them off or hold a flame to their sterns. Traumatizing them might cause them to vomit the bacteria contained in their stomachs into the tiny incisions they’ve made in your skin, leading to an infection. As for salt, he says, “do you really want to put salt into your own wound?” Instead, he recommends simply breaking the seal between their sucker (the skinny end) and your skin with a fingernail, and then gently peeling the leech off. Even better, he says, is just letting the creatures suck their fill and fall off. Most can only ingest up to a teaspoon of blood, a quantity they can guzzle in about 20 minutes. Which was exactly Eddy’s experience in his short stint as “the Amazing Leechboy”—capable of hosting up to eight leeches on his face at once—during his neighborhood one-boy freakshow. As for technical advice for Eddy’s current sideline as a medicinal leech practitioner, Siddall says: “It would probably be inappropriate for me to answer that.”

I’m heading to Baja, Mexico for a kayak trip and want to try spearfishing. Any advice?
Let Eddy just say this about spearfishing: Hell yeah! Furthermore, according to Jordan Hamilton, owner of Hamilton Spearguns, kayaks make the perfect spearfishing platform. Tether the spear to the kayak, so that it won’t be lost in case of a miss (for safety’s sake, never tether the spear to yourself, says Hamilton). Furthermore, like a scuba diver’s surface buoy, the kayak will mark your position for fellow hunters; and lastly, it provides storage for speared fish (bleeding fish tethered to your person can attract predators like sharks and sea lions). Hamilton recommends using a shorter gun to begin with—up to 50 inches in length—because it is easier to handle, and will be appropriate for the closer quarters of the rocky Sea of Cortez shoreline. You’ll need to be within 10-15 feet of the fish to pierce it with a gun that length, so attract the fish to you, Hamilton says, by floating as still as possible until fish emerge to investigate. Capitalize on their natural curiosity by clicking two shells together or hanging something shiny from the end of the speargun. When you shoot the fish, try to hit the spinal cord and paralyze it. Spears will often travel right through the gut cavity, allowing the mortally wounded fish to escape, so aim for a spot just behind the gill and about a third of the way down from the fish’s top edge. Then fry filleted strips in batter mixed with un poco Tecate, and season your tacos with a bit of lime.

How big is Rhode Island, anyway?
According to Rhode Island’s state Web site, it covers 1,214 square miles, which, to put it in context, is just a bit bigger than Samoa.

]]>http://www.canoekayak.com/ask-eddy/ask-eddy-will-insurance-cover-stolen-boat/feed/0Kayak Rescue Done Righthttp://www.canoekayak.com/videos/epic-kayak-rescue-u-k/
http://www.canoekayak.com/videos/epic-kayak-rescue-u-k/#commentsMon, 09 Dec 2013 13:00:13 +0000http://www.canoekayak.com/?p=66077A kayak rescue video early last November shows U.K kayaker Barny Young paddling with a few friends when one of his mates misses a line and pins bow first between two rocks.

Last month, a whitewater rescue video took over the Facebook newsfeeds of paddlers around the world last month for one very good reason: Everybody loves a happy ending.

Kiwi kayaker Barny Young was paddling with friends on the Lynn River in Devon, England when one of his mates missed a line and pinned bow first between two rocks. Young’s helmet cam captured the tense three minutes that followed. The video shows Young quickly eddy out, exit his kayak, and lead his crew in a textbook rescue operation. What we don’t see are the thoughts running through Young’s head and the years of river-rescue experience that helped him and his team save their friend.

CanoeKayak.com asked Young to detail the rescue to give us the whole picture. Here’s what he had to say:

CanoeKayak.com: What thoughts first went through your mind when you realized your friend was pinned?

Barny Young: I think the first thought that ever goes through your mind in this type of situation is “Oh shit.” But then you need to act quickly. In kayaking when someone is trapped underwater time is of the essence and you need to get them as quickly as possible.

Walk us through your situation. What steps did you think through and carry out for the rescue?

When arriving on the scene the first thing I ask Mark is “Are you breathing?” Getting the thumbs up here is great, as it confirms that Mark has an air pocket which buys us a little time.

Despite this I know the force of the water can change the angle of his boat at any second eliminating his air pocket. So the next step is to get a sling clipped to him. Next, the key thing is to get him stabilized. Luckily in this situation there was a rock in the middle of the river. I asked my friend Shacks if he can jump onto it, and he did.

Once Shacks is on the rock and has hold of Mark, we are able to secure and pull him out from both sides.

How prepared were you for the situation?

I was pretty prepared. I had my own safety gear and training, and a solid crew around me. Another key component for performing a good rescue on a cold day like that is being in quality gear. I was wearing my Kokatat dry suit which gave me the confidence to stand in the water for extended periods if need be.

Spending a lot of time kayaking on the west coast of New Zealand has put me in a range of different rescue scenarios. Growing up I was lucky enough to paddle with west coast Legends Gareth Fryer and Keith Riley, who were always quick and on the ball in regards to safety. Paddling with guys like that who always had your back meant you had to learn to reciprocate. I’ve also had the opportunity to safety kayak over the years for Eco Rafting,a company that runs heli rafting trips in New Zealand.

All these experiences have taught me to be prepared for the unexpected. That said, kayaking is an extreme sport and things go wrong that you can’t predict. The key is remaining cool, calm and collected to deal with them quickly. Panic helps nobody.

What safety gear do you have in on you when you go boating?

In my PFD I always carry:

River knife

2 Prusiks

2 carabiners

Whistle

15-foot sling of high-strength webbing. It’s the perfect length for using in rescues as seen in this clip, and also is long enough to use as a climbing harness if the need arises.

In my boat I have:

2 pulleys

Fold up river saw

2 carabiners

Throw bag

What gear did you use for this situation?

In this situation I just used the 15-foot sling and a carabiner. As you can see in this rescue clip I leave my throwbag inside my boat because I want to get to him quickly, and I know my sling will be long enough.

What is the takeaway from this experience?

I think it’s very important for us all to remember the force of water and its ability to humble us at any time. I’ve noticed a few comments regarding this clip where people have suggested if they were pinned like this they would simply “climb out.” Remember that 1 cumec (35 cfs) doesn’t look like much, but it’s actually 1,000 kilograms–more than 2,200 lbs.–of water pouring down on you every second. The current in this clip may look like a trickle, but it still took three of us pulling pretty hard to get him out of there.

2013 Whitewater Kayaks: Wavesport Recon

The 70

Everyone knows the story of Cinderella. When the glass slipper fit, the prince knew he’d found the real princess. Well, if Cinderella were a kayaker, the Recon 70 would be the pair of stiletto heels that Prince Charming doesn’t know about. This boat gives a healthy dose of swagger to anyone who can fit inside.

The Recon 70 is not just a downsized version of its larger stable mates; Wave Sport designed this boat specifically for lighter paddlers. The displacement hull is stable and easy to roll, while the steep rocker and upturned bow allows you to ride over waves and holes instead of punching through them. The soft chine toward the stern allows it to carve easily and snap into eddies. At 70 gallons, this Recon has as much volume as many standard-sized creekboats, but with well-thought outfitting that allows smaller paddlers to dial in that perfect fit. The wrap-around thigh hooks provide a secure fit and also support your legs from below, while optional foam inserts at contact points really lock the lower body into the boat. When I took that last left-boof off Carson Falls on the Forks of the Kern, I was able to transfer all my energy into the boat, sending me down the drop and lining me up for the rest of the rapid. Try that in a pumpkin. — Charli Kerns

The 93

I’m no Prince Charming, but I was certainly impressed by the Recon 93’s king-sized dimensions. Though the cockpit keyhole is smaller than those on some other large creekers, the plus-sized Recon has more interior legroom than a ‘65 Cadillac. Even with my 36-inch inseam and size 13 dogs I had space to spare. The outfitting is superb: aggressive and very adjustable. I too liked the supportive thigh hooks, which couple well with a new height-adjustable seat. Wave Sport didn’t spare the plastic on this one, giving it a super-rigid reinforced hull. The tradeoff for a bomber layup and amazing outfitting is weight; at 54 pounds, the Recon 93 weighs more than most.

First impressions on my favorite Class IV canyon revealed a stable, predictable, and performance-oriented ride. Catching eddies at first took some adjusting with the lack of a pronounced front chine. The edges are fairly rounded and start a little farther back, running from your knees to the stern. They provide effortless ferries when engaged, and had me peeling eddies with confidence. The Recon’s well-paced volume, front rocker and hull speed allowed me to punch holes with impunity. The boat felt nimble, spinning and accelerating with ease. Wave Sport seems to have produced a true cross between a displacement hull and an edged planing hull, ideal for all-around whitewater four-wheeling. After a couple more test-runs, I was riding high and dry on a full-on, 5.5-foot (medium) run on Robe Canyon of the Stillaguamish. — Nick Hinds

]]>http://www.canoekayak.com/gear/2013-whitewater-kayaks-wavesport-recon/feed/0From the Vault: Whitewater Parkshttp://www.canoekayak.com/vault/vault-whitewater-parks/
http://www.canoekayak.com/vault/vault-whitewater-parks/#commentsMon, 25 Nov 2013 13:00:16 +0000http://www.canoekayak.com/?p=65199In the May 2008 issue, contributor Eugene Buchanan found that though the courses at whitewater parks are artificial, the beatdowns are still very real.

These parks will range from slight alteration of natural waterways to full-blown parks similar to Charlotte N.C.’s whitewater center. Anyone who’s paddled a manmade course recognizes the inherent differences to a natural riverbed—the conveyer belt offering paddlers a ride for that second and third lap, the smooth concrete walls and floors minimizing dangers but distorting the flow dynamics and some very, very odd eddies.

This resurgence got us at C&K thinking about the history of manmade whitewater centers, prompting us to re-publish this story from the May 2008 issue, in which C&K Editor-at-Large Eugene Buchanan finds that while the courses may be artificial, the beatdowns are still very real.

]]>http://www.canoekayak.com/vault/vault-whitewater-parks/feed/0Fight for the Chattahoochee Riverhttp://www.canoekayak.com/touring-kayaks/fight-chattahoochee-river/
http://www.canoekayak.com/touring-kayaks/fight-chattahoochee-river/#commentsFri, 22 Nov 2013 13:00:54 +0000http://www.canoekayak.com/?p=64319Who owns water? Two brothers paddled the Chattahoochee-Flint-Apalachicola Rivers last March and made a film about what the watershed means for improving water use policy in the U.S.

“That’s it,” Gary Gaines says, one hand wrapped around a cold Southpaw, the other pointing across the clear, riffled Chattahoochee River to a concrete pump station the size of a couple stacked port-a-potties. “The start of the Water Wars.”

It’s the first of 30 days that my brother Michael and I will spend paddling the Chattahoochee from its source in north Georgia to the Gulf of Mexico. Earlier, Gaines had advised us to avoid the river’s uppermost reaches. The owners of a fly-fishing shop were liable to have us arrested if we tried to float through their private section of river, and below that lives a man who takes pride in pointing his shotgun at canoeists paddling on his river. That’s right, his river. An 1863 Georgia state law assigns ownership of non-navigable waterways to property holders, so that stretch of the Chattahoochee legally belongs to him. It was a fitting beginning to our journey, the purpose of which was to explore the question of who owns water by paddling down the gut of one of the nation’s most complex and disputed waterways.

Gaines lives in a log cabin at a bend in the river near Clarkesville, Georgia. I spent three rainy days there during my first source-to-sea trip on the Chattahoochee, in 2009. In early September of that year, historic rains raised the river to hundred-year flood levels. I’d watched the clear mountain stream rise seven reddish-brown feet in 10 hours, like some gothic Southern novel scene coming to life through the rain-streaked windows of Gaines’s empty cabin. I passed the time studying the curled-edge William Nealy cartoon maps of the upper Chattahoochee’s four sections and old black-and-white photos of Gaines and his river rat buddies. And I got to know Gaines. He’s the one who told me about the Water Wars.

Now I’m back at the cabin in spring of 2013. Our first day on the river has humbled Michael and me. We put on the river below the threats of arrest and buckshot, only to flip in Smith Island Rapid. We lost a tripod and a camera on the first day of a month-long documentary film trip.

After the long day, Gary waits for us at his cabin. We drag our wet gear and bodies up the bank as he smiles the smile of a man who’s swam a few rapids. “Invigorating, isn’t it?” he says, handing each of us a Southpaw.

Michael and I were raised in Atlanta, on Chattahoochee River water. It tasted fine. We used it to water the lawn, run the dishwasher, wash clothes. Once a year or so we’d spend an afternoon picnicking along the riverbank. Mainly we ignored the river. Most of Atlanta does, unless the Hooch, as we call it, is contaminated with E. coli after heavy rains have overwhelmed the sewage system, or is drying up during drought.

But the Hooch has been at the heart of a decades-old legal battle that is slowly gaining national attention. The Apalachicola, Chattahoochee and Flint (ACF) rivers flow through three states, each of which has a growing thirst for freshwater. Georgia, Florida and Alabama need water for the reasons we all do: industry, power, development, growing populations, agriculture, a healthy ecosystem, and recreation.

The controversy over water didn’t spark my 2009 source-to-sea paddle. I was just curious and looking for an adventure deep into Southern culture, so I borrowed a canoe and asked my dad to drop me off at Gaines’s cabin. It rained for three days, and I rode the historic flood wave 542 miles to Apalachicola Bay. I lived in the strange seam between wild river and manicured suburbs, listening to the disorienting overlay of moving water, muffled traffic, and coyotes howling at the moon. I was invited to sleep in strangers’ backyard trailers, slurp Jell-O shots at lakeside barbecues, find the Lord in evangelical churches, pull catfish off bush hooks, hunt wild hog at midnight, and rake oysters at dawn.

Michael is three years younger, to the day. People say we’re twin-ish. We played shortstop and second base together in college, and now we share a house in Seattle. Both of us are storytellers, too—he a photographer and I a writer. In 2010, we landed a small book deal to document America’s urban farm movement. We bought a short school bus powered by veggie grease, and drove cross-country for two months.

I’d begun to miss those times on the bus. Plus, the river was calling me home. There’s an ease of moving with a river that seems always to pull you back, though ultimately the water crisis brought me back to Georgia, and swept my brother along. The Apalachicola, Chattahoochee, and Flint rivers hold a powerful story about modern water dilemmas, and the characters best suited to tell it are not the politicians and lawyers pulling the strings from the state capitals. They are the people who live on the rivers.

The Hooch is also our native river, and I knew that if we moved at the river’s pace, the people who know the watershed best would share their stories. We could make an honest film about adventure, culture, and a complex battle over water that is a harbinger for future global struggles over our most essential resource.

]]>http://www.canoekayak.com/touring-kayaks/fight-chattahoochee-river/feed/0Fight for the Chattahoochee River, Page 2http://www.canoekayak.com/touring-kayaks/fight-chattahoochee-river-page-2/
http://www.canoekayak.com/touring-kayaks/fight-chattahoochee-river-page-2/#commentsFri, 22 Nov 2013 13:00:52 +0000http://www.canoekayak.com/?p=64409After our baptism at Smith Island Rapid we don’t cowboy anymore shoals. Our boat, the same old Wenonah camp canoe I’d paddled in 2009, its thwart now rotted out, carries the two of us, all of our camera gear and equipment, for 30 days with barely four inches of freeboard to spare. We are not a stable vessel, so we keep a hard angle against the whitecaps cutting across north Georgia’s Lake Lanier, the root of the water crisis. The origins of the fight go back to 1950, when the U.S. Army Corps of Engineers proposed a dam in the worn-down Appalachian foothills near Gainesville, Ga. The project was designed to provide power and flood control, but, the feds imagined, it also would become a water resource for Atlanta’s growing population. When the Corps asked Atlanta mayor William Hartsfield to contribute to the project, his response was almost theatrical in its foreshadowing: “Certainly a city which is only one hundred miles below one of the greatest rainfall areas in the nation will never find itself in the position of a city like Los Angeles.” And that’s the problem. Western river advocates have long battled thirsty, misplaced municipalities like Los Angeles, which

After our baptism at Smith Island Rapid we don’t cowboy anymore shoals. Our boat, the same old Wenonah camp canoe I’d paddled in 2009, its thwart now rotted out, carries the two of us, all of our camera gear and equipment, for 30 days with barely four inches of freeboard to spare. We are not a stable vessel, so we keep a hard angle against the whitecaps cutting across north Georgia’s Lake Lanier, the root of the water crisis.

The origins of the fight go back to 1950, when the U.S. Army Corps of Engineers proposed a dam in the worn-down Appalachian foothills near Gainesville, Ga. The project was designed to provide power and flood control, but, the feds imagined, it also would become a water resource for Atlanta’s growing population. When the Corps asked Atlanta mayor William Hartsfield to contribute to the project, his response was almost theatrical in its foreshadowing: “Certainly a city which is only one hundred miles below one of the greatest rainfall areas in the nation will never find itself in the position of a city like Los Angeles.”

And that’s the problem. Western river advocates have long battled thirsty, misplaced municipalities like Los Angeles, which has all but drained the Owens River in eastern California, and intensive irrigation that pulls so much water from the Colorado that it no longer reaches its natural mouth at the Sea of Cortez. East Coasters, with their weeklong spring rains, summer thunderstorms, and fall hurricanes have a hard time relating. Theirs is a saturated geography laced with streams, rivers, lakes, and aquifers.

When Hartsfield turned down the Corps, Atlanta had a population of half a million. Now the greater metropolitan area is home to 5.5 million residents, all of whom rely on Lake Lanier and the Hooch, the smallest watershed for any major city in the country. When severe droughts roll on for years, as happened in the late 2000s, Atlanta hordes water in Lake Lanier. The reduced flows affect people and wildlife all the way to the river’s terminus in Apalachicola Bay, 427 river miles below Atlanta, where the river’s freshwater influx creates one of the nation’s most productive (commercially and ecologically) fisheries and marine nurseries.

Other than those few ornery landowners in the non-navigable Hooch headwaters, no one owns the Chattahoochee, Flint, or Apalachicola rivers. And unlike in the West, where water rights are strictly defined, landowners on the ACF are entitled to take a “reasonable amount” of water, leaving the rest to downstream users. The definition of “reasonable” in this context is about as murky as the Hooch after a heavy rain. Though no one can own the water, nearly everyone stakes a claim to it.
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After a week together on the Hooch, Michael and I reach Atlanta. In order to trace the entire ACF Basin and collect a complete story, we must paddle both the Chattahoochee and the Flint River, which begins just south of downtown Atlanta, near Hartsfield International Airport. So Michael and I will split up for the next two weeks. He’ll stay on the Hooch, and I’ll paddle a parallel path on the Flint. We’ll reunite roughly 350 miles later, at Lake Seminole on the Florida line.
On a cold, sunny morning in early March, I watch from the Chattahoochee’s muddy bank as Michael lines his loaded canoe down the side of a river-wide concrete weir that collects water for the intake tunnels at the John J. McDonough steam-electric generating plant, a behemoth complex looming like a small city over the river.

Michael will see plenty more of the same as he paddles solo along the Alabama-Georgia border, past cities and farms, coal-fired power plants and a nuclear reactor, all drawing water from the Hooch. He’ll also portage around nine dams that sit astride the river.

The Flint, perhaps because of its course through the rural, small-town agricultural terrain of central and southwest Georgia, has rarely made headlines since the 1970s, when then-Governor Jimmy Carter, a native of nearby Plains, Ga., fought to prevent the damming of the Flint River near Sprewell Bluffs. The plan was squashed and the Flint remains one of only 40 American rivers to flow freely for more than 200 miles. Now the river faces the threat of overuse from Atlanta’s southeasterly suburban sprawl in its headwaters and intensive irrigation for the large peanut, soy, cotton, and corn farms in the Lower Flint basin.

With a barbecue sandwich in one hand, my paddle in the other, and a High Life between my feet, I slide, for the first time, into the slick brown current of the Flint below Griffin, Ga. Both the Chattahoochee and the Flint move over intermittent shoals toward the Fall Line, the geologic divide where the rocky Piedmont plateau finally tapers out into the flat coastal plain. While the Chattahoochee tumbles over the Fall Line in short Class IV froth at Columbus, Ga., the Flint takes a longer path.

]]>http://www.canoekayak.com/touring-kayaks/fight-chattahoochee-river-page-2/feed/0Fight for the Chattahoochee River, Page 4http://www.canoekayak.com/touring-kayaks/fight-chattahoochee-river-page-4/
http://www.canoekayak.com/touring-kayaks/fight-chattahoochee-river-page-4/#commentsFri, 22 Nov 2013 13:00:48 +0000http://www.canoekayak.com/?p=64413The Lower Flint River flows atop a Swiss-cheese geology of porous limestone filled with layers of ancient aquifers. The murky sapphire water of the Floridian aquifer, which provides water to the state’s panhandle, emerges from the lowland forest throughout the Lower Flint. When I spotted a stream of blue water dissolving into the Flint’s brown body, I turned the canoe and paddled up the narrow tributary, through swarms of mosquitos and beneath vines hanging like stiff clotheslines. When the trickle was too narrow to float my canoe, I left it and walked an ATV road to Miller Spring, a “blue hole” the size of an Olympic swimming pool. Again, I’ve entered a new world, this one defined by an underwater labyrinth of aquifers. Only occasionally, as at Miller Spring, does a surface-water tributary enter the Flint. The majority of the water now moves below ground. Little is known about the hydrology of this area, but researchers at the nearby Jones Ecological Research Center are tracing the flows, trying to understand the connections between surface water and aquifer recharge. The hard science can hopefully inform EPA administrators as to when to declare drought in the basin. The farmers want to know, too.

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The Lower Flint River flows atop a Swiss-cheese geology of porous limestone filled with layers of ancient aquifers. The murky sapphire water of the Floridian aquifer, which provides water to the state’s panhandle, emerges from the lowland forest throughout the Lower Flint. When I spotted a stream of blue water dissolving into the Flint’s brown body, I turned the canoe and paddled up the narrow tributary, through swarms of mosquitos and beneath vines hanging like stiff clotheslines. When the trickle was too narrow to float my canoe, I left it and walked an ATV road to Miller Spring, a “blue hole” the size of an Olympic swimming pool.

Again, I’ve entered a new world, this one defined by an underwater labyrinth of aquifers. Only occasionally, as at Miller Spring, does a surface-water tributary enter the Flint. The majority of the water now moves below ground. Little is known about the hydrology of this area, but researchers at the nearby Jones Ecological Research Center are tracing the flows, trying to understand the connections between surface water and aquifer recharge. The hard science can hopefully inform EPA administrators as to when to declare drought in the basin. The farmers want to know, too. This is farm country, and farmers, better than any others in the watershed, know the importance of water.
Most everyone in Mitchell County knows everyone else. When I ask a man near the river if he knows any farmers I might talk to about water use he tells me that as a matter of fact, a group of local farmers is meeting with the Georgia EPA the next day at the Stripling Irrigation Research Park. Then he offers to drive me there.

At the meeting, more than two-dozen farmers of all ages sit in a conference room. After a lunch of cold cut sandwiches, Gail Cowie of the Georgia EPA discusses a proposed aquifer recharge project. Cowie outlined a complex system of pipes and wells designed to divert river water into the aquifers during periods of high flow. During drought, water would be pumped out of these aquifer reservoirs for irrigation and to maintain healthy flows for sensitive aquatic species. The plan would alleviate the issue of evaporation from surface reservoirs, but would be extremely costly. There’s also a chance that minerals in the sub-surface aquifers could contaminate the stored river water.
The farmers are polite, though clearly unimpressed. A young farmer asks haltingly if the plan is yet another expensive way to engineer more water out of thin air. A classic big city-small town dynamic takes shape in the room. The farmers work the land everyday. They read weather patterns and spend sleepless nights worrying about water. Many have begun using more efficient center-pivot irrigation systems. A couple farms in the Lower Flint are participating in a project to measure soil moisture with high-tech sensors to more accurately gauge irrigation timing and duration, potentially saving millions of gallons of water. They seem skeptical of the big-city administrator using the majority of the water in the system.

An older farmer in the back of the room voices what many seem to be thinking. “We’re talking a lot about changing practices here, but are we talking about changing policies up in Atlanta, too?”

The Apalachicola River immediately feels primitive. Within a mile from the Jim Woodruff Dam, the last impoundment in the ACF Basin, we spy a nine-foot gator sunning itself on a sandy bank. As we glide past, Michael and I now back in the same canoe, the old dinosaur thrashes violently into the flow. The brown surface swallows her and quickly smoothes again to a deceptively innocent reflection of blue sky and fluffy clouds.

People down here seem a little more wild too. At Ocheesee Landing, a handful of homemade houseboats float in a giant eddy, thick ropes anchoring them to nearby oaks. John and Patricia Wallace recognize me from my first float down in 2009, when I’d tied up to their floating porch and shared a few beers. Now Patricia fries catfish on the porch. She hands the chunks to us on a bed of grease-darkened newspaper. She and John hunt deer and hog and catch fish, making occasional runs to the grocery store for beer, cornmeal, oil, water, and the odd vegetable. They don’t plan on leaving Ocheesee. No one bothers them there.

The river’s up right now. Weekly thunderstorms throughout the watershed have ensured regular dam releases, so the Apalachicola slides silently into the cypress and tupelo swamps bordering its main channel. The whole place feels weighted down beneath the heavy accumulation of so much water. Too soon we reach the marshes, the forests spreading away from the river like a curtain drawn back from a stage. The river is meeting the ocean and everything slows.

]]>http://www.canoekayak.com/touring-kayaks/fight-chattahoochee-river-page-4/feed/0Fight for the Chattahoochee River, Page 5http://www.canoekayak.com/touring-kayaks/fight-chattahoochee-river-page-5/
http://www.canoekayak.com/touring-kayaks/fight-chattahoochee-river-page-5/#commentsFri, 22 Nov 2013 13:00:29 +0000http://www.canoekayak.com/?p=64415We land on the broad, deserted white beach of St. Vincent Island under blue skies and popcorn clouds. There’s not much to say; Michael and my combined and separate journeys are best left in our own heads for now. We toast each other with cheap whiskey and run into the Gulf of Mexico, letting the sea absorb us as it does the river. And that’s it. No more single direction to follow. No more gravitational pull. The river flows, bullheaded, into the ocean, as indifferent to us now as it was on Day One. Anyone who claims to own that water has obviously never spent much time moving with the stubborn, old-man river. We spend our last night camped beside a two-story-high pile of oyster shells at Buddy Ward Seafood’s 13 Mile oyster house. We wake before dawn and meet Kendall Schoelles at a small dock shrouded in marsh grasses. Schoelles grew up less than a mile from here, in a small house under the arrow-straight pines. His family has leased the same oyster beds since the late 1800s. We sit on the shell fragments and oyster patina of Schoelles’s long wooden skiff. He steers from the stern, inside a handmade

We land on the broad, deserted white beach of St. Vincent Island under blue skies and popcorn clouds. There’s not much to say; Michael and my combined and separate journeys are best left in our own heads for now. We toast each other with cheap whiskey and run into the Gulf of Mexico, letting the sea absorb us as it does the river. And that’s it. No more single direction to follow. No more gravitational pull. The river flows, bullheaded, into the ocean, as indifferent to us now as it was on Day One. Anyone who claims to own that water has obviously never spent much time moving with the stubborn, old-man river.

We spend our last night camped beside a two-story-high pile of oyster shells at Buddy Ward Seafood’s 13 Mile oyster house. We wake before dawn and meet Kendall Schoelles at a small dock shrouded in marsh grasses. Schoelles grew up less than a mile from here, in a small house under the arrow-straight pines. His family has leased the same oyster beds since the late 1800s. We sit on the shell fragments and oyster patina of Schoelles’s long wooden skiff. He steers from the stern, inside a handmade wood box that acts as cockpit within reach of the outboard motor. I can barely make out Schoelles’s face through the box’s small rectangular opening. He looks past me into a gauzy darkness as he weaves between shallow oyster beds he knows by heart.

Schoelles is one of the last oystermen still working the Bay for Buddy Ward Seafood. These days, he packs a pistol. After years of reduced freshwater from the river, the oyster beds have been dying, preyed upon by saltwater-loving conch and bacteria that thrive without regular freshwater flushing. The oyster business has grown desperate in this federally designated fishery disaster area. Kendall occasionally interrupts poachers scraping bivalves, often the baby ones, from his leases. Schoelles is a soft-spoken, mild-mannered guy who just wants to make a living from the water. The gun gives him a voice that matters out in the darkness of Apalachicola Bay.

Oysters don’t lie. They can only sit there and take what comes to them. Schoelles used to pull in 12 to 15 60-pound bags of oysters a day. Now he gets 10 or 11. Many of the few remaining oystermen on the Bay rake only three or four bags. This far downriver, there are few more honest indicators of a river system’s health than how many bags of oysters come out of the Bay. With all the dams and intake stations and perfectly manicured lawns upstream, we’ve all wrestled the river out of the ebb and flow of nature. For better or worse, we now own the water.

The Flint and Chattahoochee run parallel to one another, and they end up together, beneath Schoelles’s boat. Their water drips off the oyster tongs, soaking into the splintered wood floor beneath our feet. We rock on an easterly chop. “Nature does a pretty good job of keeping it balanced,” Schoelles says. It’s hard to tell if he really believes that anymore, sitting on the bow of his boat, culling oysters and tossing the small ones back into the water, hoping the upstream owners will let the freshwater reach them.

]]>http://www.canoekayak.com/touring-kayaks/fight-chattahoochee-river-page-5/feed/1Fight for the Chattahoochee River, Page 3http://www.canoekayak.com/touring-kayaks/fight-chattahoochee-river-page-3/
http://www.canoekayak.com/touring-kayaks/fight-chattahoochee-river-page-3/#commentsFri, 22 Nov 2013 13:00:03 +0000http://www.canoekayak.com/?p=64411On the first day, I pick my way down the wide, shallow, moss-carpeted rocks of Flat Shoals. On Day Two, I squeeze down the cracks of a dozen unnamed ledges that cut like hardened scars through the time-softened canyon of Sprewell Bluff. I’m lucky. Recent rains have lifted the flow above the sharp rocks. For years, the Flint has been too thin even for canoes. A few hours before dark, I near Yellow Jacket Shoals, where the river drops 50 feet in less than a mile. I’m nervous, especially after dumping in the tamer Smith Island Rapid on the first day of the trip. Just above the shoals, Jim McDaniel waits at a boat ramp beside his rambling Flint River Outdoor Center. I tie up to a root bulging from the muddy bank, and McDaniel asks me where I’m heading. I tell him the Gulf of Mexico. He offers to feed me spaghetti and let me stay the night. I politely refuse, saying I might head on down and get past Yellow Jacket tonight. “What, you don’t like spaghetti?” he responds. McDaniel backs the golf cart down the ramp, hooks my bow with a rope, and drags the canoe, gear included,

On the first day, I pick my way down the wide, shallow, moss-carpeted rocks of Flat Shoals. On Day Two, I squeeze down the cracks of a dozen unnamed ledges that cut like hardened scars through the time-softened canyon of Sprewell Bluff. I’m lucky. Recent rains have lifted the flow above the sharp rocks. For years, the Flint has been too thin even for canoes.

A few hours before dark, I near Yellow Jacket Shoals, where the river drops 50 feet in less than a mile. I’m nervous, especially after dumping in the tamer Smith Island Rapid on the first day of the trip.

Just above the shoals, Jim McDaniel waits at a boat ramp beside his rambling Flint River Outdoor Center. I tie up to a root bulging from the muddy bank, and McDaniel asks me where I’m heading. I tell him the Gulf of Mexico. He offers to feed me spaghetti and let me stay the night. I politely refuse, saying I might head on down and get past Yellow Jacket tonight. “What, you don’t like spaghetti?” he responds. McDaniel backs the golf cart down the ramp, hooks my bow with a rope, and drags the canoe, gear included, up a track covered in AstroTurf to dry land beside his lodge’s ample porch.

After watching the local weather—a menacing red band of tornado-laced thunderstorms brushing over New Orleans and continuing eastward—McDaniel tells me how he and his wife built the lodge, the bar, the liquor store, the RV campground, and the canoe and raft guiding business over the last 30 years. Like most boaters, he flinches at the idea of dams plugging a free-flowing river, but he needs consistent river flows to keep his business alive. A dam on the upper Flint would provide that, so McDaniel has begrudgingly become an advocate of damming the river. I begin to understand the creep of helplessness the farther I go downriver. Does stubbornly protecting a free-flowing river matter if all that’s left to those downstream is an inconsistent trickle?

I tuck into my sleeping bag on McDaniel’s living room couch while his wife watches midnight TV across the room. I think about Carter’s fight against the Flint dam in the ‘70s. It was not just an aesthetic battle to save the natural river valley. Scientists also knew that evaporation from a reservoir’s vast surface area, especially during hot droughts, robs the overall system of its water. Unfortunately, few people outside of vocal organizations such as the Chattahoochee and Flint Riverkeepers are talking seriously about conservation and modernizing infrastructure in Atlanta’s leaky water system. Dams are the reflex solution, a Band-Aid to engineer more water from an overtaxed system. Through the open window, above the TV din, I can barely make out the sound of the Flint, a slight rumble as it falls toward the coastal plain.

In the morning, I get through Yellow Jacket after an hour of conservative paddling down the bank-side sneaks and a few awkward drags between tight, bony chutes. Below the Fall Line, the river enters a new world. Cypress trees dangle moss-bearded branches over the banks. Vines twist into chaotic, dark forests. The river seems to move faster without the shoal-pool routine of higher up. The rain-swollen flow pulls me around sharp bends, past logjams and long tongues of sand.

The thunderstorms we’d watched on television the night before catch me just before dusk as I near the GA Road 137 overpass, the only solid structure for 12 river miles. I reach the bridge just as the rain turns sideways and lightning breaks the gray twilight. From my tent setup on a dry patch beside a graffitied, trash-strewn bridge rampart, I pour a whiskey and call Michael. He too is in the thick of the storm, hunkered under a campground shelter 50 miles west, near Columbus. I can hear the tornado sirens through the phone. Our dad has been relaying weather updates to us from home in Atlanta. He used to sit proudly in the stands at baseball games, cheering for his sons in the routine of a normal suburban family. Before our cell service cuts out, Michael and I laugh, wondering if our parents ever imagined their grown sons would be simultaneously huddled beside two separate rivers somewhere in the middle of a Georgia tornado.

]]>http://www.canoekayak.com/touring-kayaks/fight-chattahoochee-river-page-3/feed/0Winter Kayaking: Upper Arkansas River, Coloradohttp://www.canoekayak.com/travel/winter-kayaking-upper-arkansas-river-colorado/
http://www.canoekayak.com/travel/winter-kayaking-upper-arkansas-river-colorado/#commentsThu, 21 Nov 2013 13:00:48 +0000http://www.canoekayak.com/?p=64787Upper Arkansas River, Colorado Colorado’s Upper Arkansas River Valley is mostly ranch and farm land, largely undeveloped, and bookended on the west by the magnificent Sawatch Range with 15 summits rising to 14,000 feet or higher, and the Mosquito Range to the east, which boast several 13,000-foot peaks of its own. Slicing through this high mountain basin is the Arkansas River, the most popular whitewater paddling destination in the United States. Popular, that is, until the Ark’s roaring water levels begin to drop as summer slips into autumn and then the dead of winter. However, ridiculously low water and colder temps don’t mean boaters need to hibernate. Providing the river remains liquid (vs. frozen hard), which is usually the case in this mountainous banana belt, a small but growing cadre of hard-core paddlers remains eager and willing to hit the boney, tight-lined, challenging, and always wildly fun ELF (Extremely Low Flow) runs on the Ark. The lengthy Upper Ark provides plenty of it, from Class II to Class III-plus. With elevations ranging from 8,580 above the mountain town of Buena Vista to 5,335 feet near Cañon City, you might find it sleeting while running the technical rapids of the Numbers section,

Upper Arkansas River, Colorado

Colorado’s Upper Arkansas River Valley is mostly ranch and farm land, largely undeveloped, and bookended on the west by the magnificent Sawatch Range with 15 summits rising to 14,000 feet or higher, and the Mosquito Range to the east, which boast several 13,000-foot peaks of its own. Slicing through this high mountain basin is the Arkansas River, the most popular whitewater paddling destination in the United States.

Popular, that is, until the Ark’s roaring water levels begin to drop as summer slips into autumn and then the dead of winter. However, ridiculously low water and colder temps don’t mean boaters need to hibernate. Providing the river remains liquid (vs. frozen hard), which is usually the case in this mountainous banana belt, a small but growing cadre of hard-core paddlers remains eager and willing to hit the boney, tight-lined, challenging, and always wildly fun ELF (Extremely Low Flow) runs on the Ark.

The lengthy Upper Ark provides plenty of it, from Class II to Class III-plus. With elevations ranging from 8,580 above the mountain town of Buena Vista to 5,335 feet near Cañon City, you might find it sleeting while running the technical rapids of the Numbers section, while sunny and warm downstream in scenic, pool-drop Brown’s Canyon. — LR

After fighting for decades to be included in the Olympics as an official sport, women C-1 paddlers are one step closer to getting their wish. On Friday, Nov. 15, the International Canoe Federation Board of Directors voted to support the inclusion of C-1 women slalom and C-1 women 200 meter sprint in the 2020 Tokyo Olympics, and to guarantee complete gender equity across both the Olympic disciplines by the 2024 Olympic Games.

The ICF is the world governing body for international canoe and kayak racing. The International Olympic Committee has the final say in changes to the Olympic program, but typically follows the lead of lead of international federations such as the ICF, with one important caveat: The IOC rarely allows sports to add events or increase the number of athletes competing. That means the addition of women’s C-1 events will likely come at the cost of some men’s canoe and kayak events.

“This is exceptionally positive for our sport and clarifies our position to ensure equity at every level of competition,” said José Perurena, ICF President and IOC Member.

This move has been a long time coming. With gender equity a top priority in the Olympic movement, Canadian canoeing bronze medalist Thomas Hall warned in August that canoeing risked being excluded from the Olympics altogether if the ICF did not step up to include women.

“Paddling, which includes both sprint and slalom, was shortlisted for loss of Olympic core-sport status by the International Olympic Committee,” said Hall in an essay he wrote for CanoeKayak.com.“Removal of core status means that a sport that was once guaranteed a spot in the Olympics now has to fight to be included in future events.”

“Women’s C1 in both Sprint and Slalom has improved dramatically over the last couple of years and the proposal to include it in the Olympic program will further support its future development,” said Perurena

]]>http://www.canoekayak.com/news/industry-updates/womens-canoe-events-proposed-tokyo-olympics/feed/0Whitewater Women Web Series Episode 2http://www.canoekayak.com/videos/boob-tube-web-series-episode-2/
http://www.canoekayak.com/videos/boob-tube-web-series-episode-2/#commentsThu, 14 Nov 2013 18:00:02 +0000http://www.canoekayak.com/?p=65335The second episode of the TiTS DEEP webisode series explores the woman behind the camera. That's right, this is an all-woman project right down to the crew.

In this second installment of the TiTS DEEP webisode series, the story explores the woman behind the camera. That’s right, this is an all-woman project right down to the crew. The episode delves into how the filmmaker met the paddlers and the relationship that formed.

“This episode is about how I met the ladies of TiTS DEEP in Chile, and the very beginning of our adventures together in the Columbia Gorge,” said filmmaker Erin Galey. “It really cool for me because I’ve never actually put myself in any of the media I’ve created over the years, even though when you make content like this it always has your little signature on it.”

]]>At the base of a moss-covered waterfall, we scramble up 400 feet of slick limestone and wet moss to its source. A large dark grotto forms the entrance to a curious subterranean lake. Headlamps uncover long white stalactite as our boats and paddles slice through inky water. Deep inside, turbulent cascades echo through the dark and forbidding chamber. Eight miles above the confluence, the whitewater begins.

In this C&K feature flipbook, writer Forrest McCarthy and photographer Moe Witschard explore the extraordinary rivers and troubled history of Bosnia.

Put In

Destinations

Gear

]]>http://www.canoekayak.com/magazine/december-2013/feed/0The King is Crowned at Moose Festhttp://www.canoekayak.com/whitewater-kayak/the-king-is-crowned-at-moose-fest/
http://www.canoekayak.com/whitewater-kayak/the-king-is-crowned-at-moose-fest/#commentsWed, 23 Oct 2013 14:09:40 +0000http://www.canoekayak.com/?p=63871The King of New York Race Series has always had a bit of rivalry between the U.S. and Canada, but never was the title at risk of going north of the border until this year.

The King of New York Race Series has always had a bit of rivalry between the U.S. and Canada, but never was the title at risk of going north of the border until this year. After standout performances at the Eagle and Raquette races, Quebecois paddler Billy “Big Deal” Thibault arrived at Saturday’s series-capping Moose Race as the favorite to take home the King of New York crown.

Among those gunning for the Quebecois were Jared Seiler of Gladwyne, Penn., and past champions Justin Beckwith and Geoff Calhoun.

“I feel like it’s America against me,” said Thibault, half joking.

An airhorn signaled the start of the race, and paddlers sprinted to their boats in the Moose Race’s “Le Mans” style start. The canny veteran Beckwith jumped to an early lead in his Wavehopper, followed by a pack of nearly 30 racers dropping Ager’s Falls en masse. Beckwith held a narrow lead for most of the race, but Seiler, paddling a sea kayak, was hot on his heels. As the two paddlers approached Crystal, the final and most difficult Class V rapid of the course, Beckwith made a critical error in taking a slower right line, giving Seiler an opening to speed by him on the left.

Seiler held his narrow lead to the finish line, claiming the Moose Race title and the King of New York crown. Calhoun was third, Thibault a well-fought and smiling fourth on the day. The result dropped him to second in the in the KONY series. The vaunted crown will stay Stateside at least one more year.

The rest of the paddlers crossed the finish line out of breath and sporting a few battle scars, but also smiles and high fives. With the race behind them, the crowd drove on to Mountainman Outdoor Supply Company in Old Forge for the awards ceremony. There, the undisputed patriarch of Adirondack Paddling, Chris Koll, kept the rowdy crowd entertained with his traditional emcee antics. As results were announced, racers were invited up for the traditional swig from a communal bottle as Koll made jokes at their expense.

To encourage participation, every 2013 King of New York racer was entered into a drawing for a Dagger Green Boat. Thibault was the lucky winner to walk away with a new race boat–a coincidental consolation prize. The Immersion Research “Are you Gonna Eat That” award was given to Chris Kyle for his harrowing swim and self-rescue during the Black Race. “Girl King Of New York”, Daphnee Tuzlak, was awarded a fleece changing robe for her large margin of victory over the closest female competitor.

Finally, the crowd migrated to the bars of Old Forge for the bar crawl that marks the unofficial end of New York’s whitewater release season. At Slicker’s Adirondack Tavern, paddlers danced late into the night and kayakers roamed the streets of the accommodating Adirondack village. Those that awoke the following morning with the motivation to paddle were rewarded with sunny skies and increased water levels for a final run down the Moose before dissipating to their winter retreats. In his first official directive, King Seiler commanded that his minions follow him for a brisk morning dip in the lake. Some even obliged. Long live the King of New York!

As the 2013 racing season nears its end, stay tuned to Canoekayak.com for wrap ups of the final races

]]>http://www.canoekayak.com/whitewater-kayak/the-king-is-crowned-at-moose-fest/feed/1How River Runners Helped Open the Grandhttp://www.canoekayak.com/uncategorized/how-river-runners-helped-open-the-grand/
http://www.canoekayak.com/uncategorized/how-river-runners-helped-open-the-grand/#commentsTue, 15 Oct 2013 13:00:11 +0000http://www.canoekayak.com/?p=63725After a 12-day hiatus, river trips began launching on the Grand Canyon on Saturday, Oct. 11, for a period of at least seven days – thanks, in part, to a gaggle of river runners, including raft and accessory maker NRS.

After a 12-day hiatus, river trips began launching on the Grand Canyon on Saturday, Oct. 11, for a period of at least seven days – thanks, in part, to a gaggle of river runners, including raft and accessory maker NRS.

On Saturday, the National Park Service announced that it had entered into an agreement with the State of Arizona allowing Grand Canyon National Park to re-open and temporarily operate during the government shutdown. The move was a result of Secretary of the Interior Sally Jewell saying she’d consider agreements with governors provided they fund park re-openings in their states.

In Arizona, it started with the town of Tusayan Mayor Greg Bryan, who had access to Arizona Governor Janice Brewer and had raised $196,000 through local donations as well as an additional $200,000 from the town to get South Rim access re-opened. Meanwhile, NRS was trying to find a way to get Lee’s Ferry re-opened through a monetary donation. River advocate Tom Martin, co-director of River Runners for Wilderness, caught wind of NRS’s altruistic efforts and directed NRS company founder Bill Parks to Bryan. “We had run into a dead end trying to work through Arizona Rep Ann Kirkpatrick,” says NRS account manager Robert Crump. “So Bill committed $30,000 to the fund under the stipulation that Lee’s Ferry would be included in the reopening.”

The tactic worked, and the park was reopened on Saturday, Oct. 12, through Oct. 18, allowing river runners to once again float its hallowed canyons. The agreement funds the park for a period of seven days at the donated amount of $651,000, a majority of which came from coalition funding.

“She [Gov. Brewer] was truly surprised at the amount of $426,500 from our coalition,” says Bryan, adding that if any of the funds get repaid they will reimburse all contributors proportionally.

But the jury’s out as far as the park staying open past Oct. 18. “We have no ideas on what might happen after Oct. 18,” says Scott Davis of outfitter Ceiba Adventures. “Because the feds haven’t committed to any repayment to the states for opening the park, we feel it’s very tenuous at best.”

Still, it’s a stroke in the right direction toward getting paddlers back where they belong—on the water. In all, 21 private river launches and six commercial launches were scheduled over the first two weeks in October.

“This is a practical and temporary solution that will lessen the pain for some businesses and communities in Arizona during this shutdown,” said Secretary Jewell. “We want to re-open all of our national parks as quickly possible for everyone to enjoy and call on Congress to pass a clean continuing resolution to open the government.”

Regulations for Permit Holders Unable to Launch

The National Park Service at Grand Canyon National Park announced that all river permit holders who were denied their scheduled launch due to the government shutdown will receive a refund for permit fees. They will also be entitled to reschedule for a Colorado River trip with their choice of dates in 2013, 2014, 2015 or 2016. The permit holder will be required to submit their choices within 60 days of the government reopening. No more than three launches will be permitted in a day and the new trip must adhere to the trip length of the chosen season.

Permittees who had launch dates three days prior to opening and including opening day, may choose to get a refund for permit fees and reschedule with the same parameters as outlined above or launch after opening. The maximum number of launches will be adjusted to four per day for the first two days after opening. After that, the maximum will be three launches per day until the backlog has been cleared. River permit holders with the current launch date will have priority to launch on their scheduled date.

Commercial river companies that have scheduled launches during the government shutdown will be able to carry over lost user days that occurred under the government shutdown in the 2014 season. A user day is equal to one passenger on the river over the period of one day. Therefore, if a company was to launch with 10 passengers for 10 days, they’ll be able to carry over 100 user days in the 2014 season.

]]>http://www.canoekayak.com/uncategorized/how-river-runners-helped-open-the-grand/feed/2Gowanus Canal, Brooklyn N.Y.http://www.canoekayak.com/travel/gowanus-canal-brooklyn-n-y/
http://www.canoekayak.com/travel/gowanus-canal-brooklyn-n-y/#commentsThu, 03 Oct 2013 13:00:41 +0000http://www.canoekayak.com/?p=62727Each time he crossed the Gowanus Canal, Frank Minna, the small-time wise guy in the novel Motherless Brooklyn, quipped that it's "the only body of water in the world that is 90 percent guns."

Gowanus Canal, Brooklyn N.Y.

Each time he crossed the Gowanus Canal, Frank Minna, the small-time wise guy in the novel Motherless Brooklyn, quipped that it’s “the only body of water in the world that is 90 percent guns.” In Lavender Lake, a documentary about the famously filthy 1.8-mile long canal in south Brooklyn, a local describes a body floating to the surface tied to a chair. Later, two cops tell of a fisherman who snagged a suitcase stuffed with body parts that weren’t even from the same body.

Colorful in lore and, more so, in hue. The water of the Gowanus has been likened to “black mayonnaise,” upon which a curious white goo sometimes floats. Other days it appears a phosphorescent green. This October, the storm surge from Hurricane Sandy forced the Gowanus over its concrete banks, spreading debris throughout the gentrified neighborhoods that surround it. The locals evacuated in droves.

A paddler’s nightmare, huh? Fuhgeddaboutdit. The Gowanus Dredgers Canoe Club, a non-profit organization intent or revitalizing the canal (gowanuscanal.org/), logs as many as 1,000 canoe and kayak trips each year. Launch from the put-in at 2nd Street, you’ll cruise past dilapidated bulk heads, factories riddled with graffiti and more scrap metal than on the set of Repro Man. Before you can say “Henry Hudson was here,” you’re out into the expanse of New York Harbor—a short paddle from the Statue of Liberty, the most famous piece of rusting copper the city has to offer. –Joe Glickman

CanoeKayak.com: Can you take us through the construction process and idea behind this image?

Vitek Ludvik: A few years ago I made short video about making a kayak shot with Czech Olympic paddler Vavra Hradilek. I was quite happy with the image that I made during filming. You can see the video here:

After some time I started thinking on how to improve the shot. I had a few meetings and discussions with Hoza “Zajic” Lasko, the producer of Zet kayaks about the construction. We tried an old tripod, but it buckled after a few minutes of testing. We knew we needed a more solid camera mount and drew up a new layout. My neighbor is a craftsman hobbyist and he helped construct the mount just two days before the trip began. It was light, solid and reliable.

Some might say you went through a lot of trouble and wonder why not just use a small POV camera… Can you explain your reasoning?

Using a camera with DSLR sensor size allows me to use the image for any kind of print.

What were some of the biggest challenges making it all work and come together?

The most difficult part was to find the right spot. Last year there was a lot of water everywhere in Norway. And the weather was awful as usual. So finding the right sized drop and being there on sunny day – that was the real challenge.

Do you continue to use the rig?

We use the mount for filming with GoPros now. But one of my clients asked me to create a similar image again. I will have to improve the mount a little before we try again.

What’s next on your list of photographic adventures?

My best assignment of the year starts this week, the Red Bull X-Alps! It’s a paragliding competition that goes through the Alps from Salzburg to Monaco. I can’t wait for that!

]]>http://www.canoekayak.com/photos/behind-the-lens-vitek-ludvik/feed/0Thoreau’s North Woodshttp://www.canoekayak.com/travel/thoreaus-north-woods/
http://www.canoekayak.com/travel/thoreaus-north-woods/#commentsThu, 19 Sep 2013 13:00:00 +0000http://www.canoekayak.com/?p=62489From Chamberlain Lake to the confluence with the St. John River, the Allagash flows nearly 100 miles through lakes, ponds, runnable Class I to III whitewater, falls and short portages, making this the quintessential seven- to 10-day Maine canoe trip.

Thoreau’s North Woods

New England scribe and avant-garde environmentalist Henry David Thoreau paddled Maine’s Allagash River in 1853 and 1857 with Penobscot Indian guides Joe Aitteon and Joe Polis. Back then, the free-flowing river was the haunt of moose, black bears and virgin 15-story pine, but also faced the looming threat of logging and development. Thoreau’s clarion call for the river’s protection came in The North Woods, a book of essays published posthumously in 1864. Thoreau’s poetic description of the river and passionate stance on wilderness preservation was a big reason the Allagash became America’s first Wild and Scenic river more than a century later in 1970.

Redux Route: From Chamberlain Lake to the confluence with the St. John River, the Allagash flows nearly 100 miles through lakes, ponds, runnable Class I to III whitewater, falls and short portages, making this the quintessential seven- to 10-day Maine canoe trip. Starting near the river’s headwaters on Allagash Lake—Maine’s only waterway that is free of motorized boats and vehicles—only increases the wilderness experience. (Info and guided trips: allagashcanoetrips.com) —CM

]]>In the aftermath of torrential rains that have devastated central Colorado communities, a pair of kayakers couldn’t resist testing themselves on the Boulder Creek. Alerted to the high water by at the crack of dawn by disaster-warning sirens, Will Grubb and Forrest Noble grabbed their gear and tackled the Lower Boulder Canyon section at 2,000 cfs—three times its highest recommended flow. The normally Class III-IV run turned into a roaring chocolate-brown Class V, carrying the paddlers downstream as though they were twigs.

“It was fast, and cleared up the usual manky rock,” Grubb said. “Lower canyon was clean, fun, and brown!” He said the XXL version of Boulder Creek had a fun flow until the paddlers reached the play park section, where some nasty hydraulics had formed. This was an experts-only day on Boulder Creek–Grubb is a former international C-1 and K-1 slalom racer, who regularly paddles Washington’s Little White Salmon and other stout Class V rivers. Noble is a seasoned gnarr-rider as well, though no expert with an iPhone. Next time, turn it sideways bro.

]]>http://www.canoekayak.com/videos/riding-the-colorado-floods/feed/0When Generations Collidehttp://www.canoekayak.com/whitewater-kayak/when-generations-collide/
http://www.canoekayak.com/whitewater-kayak/when-generations-collide/#commentsFri, 06 Sep 2013 16:57:43 +0000http://www.canoekayak.com/?p=62217It's family feud to the fullest with EJ Jackson competing for the first time against his own son Dane Jackson for the Men's 2013 K1 World Championship title at the Nantahala Outdoor Center in NC.

The most anticipated rivalry at the ICF World Freestyle Championships isn’t a continental battle like England versus France, or the U.S. against Canada. It’s the father-son battle for supremacy within the Jackson clan. Yesterday’s men’s K1 Preliminary rounds marked the first time Eric “EJ” Jackson competed in the senior class with his son Dane Jackson.

EJ, a four-time world champion, is a 49-year-old phenomenon whose has been on top of the freestyle game almost since the advent of playboating. He won his first world title in 1993, and has been on the U.S. team for 25 consecutive years. The elder Jackson is responsible for a good portion of the sport’s evolving boat designs and moves, and co-founded one of the world’s biggest kayak manufacturers, Jackson Kayak.

Dane, 20, is merely the best playboater on the planet. All he has to do this week is prove it to his old man–and the world. Though 2013 marks his first worlds in the senior men’s class, he’s no rookie. He’s been paddling at the elite level since he was 11 years old, and claimed four World Championship gold medals at the 2011 World Championships in junior men’s K-1, OC-1, C-1 and Squirt. He’s also notched back-to-back victories in the Whitewater Grand Prix.

Fourteen heats of five paddlers vied for only 20 spots in today’s Quarterfinals. Paddling in the second heat, Dane put down his marker: 2,704 points. His ride was non-stop, comprised almost entirely of combination moves and showcasing some of the biggest airs we’ve seen all week. In the rounds that followed only one man, France’s Mathieu Dumoulin, came within 500 points of Dane’s total. EJ laid down two solid rides for a combined score of 1,784, good enough for 11th place on the day and, more importantly, a spot in today’s quarterfinals. When the dust finally settled, Slovakia’s Peter Csonka, American Jason Craig and Canada’s Nick Troutman rounded out the top 5.

“It’s real love when you let your offspring with the earlier rounds,” says the grinning Eric Jackson, now a grandfather. “Reminds me when I let Nick (Nick Troutman of Canada, EJ’s son-in-law) win the rounds in ‘07 until the finals. But seriously, Dane paddled amazing today, but don’t count out the dad.”

“I pulled out the rides I wanted,” Dane responded, with a wink at his dad. “I think I can get more and think my dad can get a lot more.” Dane, as with any modern freestyle competitor, can never count the elder Jackson out of the competition.

EJ and Dane square off again today in the Men’s K-1 quarterfinals from 5 to 7 p.m. eastern standard time. Heats in Men’s C-1 and Women’s K-1 are underway now.

]]>http://www.canoekayak.com/whitewater-kayak/when-generations-collide/feed/2The Inside Line: Justine Curgenvenhttp://www.canoekayak.com/videos/the-inside-line-justine-curgenven/
http://www.canoekayak.com/videos/the-inside-line-justine-curgenven/#commentsWed, 04 Sep 2013 13:00:15 +0000http://www.canoekayak.com/?p=61995In this installment of 'The Inside Line,' C&K takes a deeper look at Justine Curgenven, who featured in the 'Unfiltered' story in the July 2013 issue.

]]>What you notice most are her wide, vibrant and strikingly blue eyes—unless, of course, she’s laughing, a full-throated cackle that frequently morphs into a staccato shriek. Embracing her distinctive guffaw, Justine Curgenven named her company Cackle TV. “It’s like the roar of the MGM lion!” she says. Laughing, of course.

Born in a steel town 150 miles north of London, Curgenven spent half of her childhood in Jersey, an island off the coast of Normandy. After graduating from Cambridge and a year spent traveling, she settled into a job as a local television reporter. When asked to do a three-minute segment on a person who became an Internet sensation for having sex covered in baked beans, she filed the story and then went her own way. “I was fed up,” she says. Her goal was to spend more time outdoors and to make documentaries.

Nearly a decade and five DVDs later, the 40-year-old who hangs her favored wool caps in a small town in North Wales has done just that. Whether she’s filming her own trips around Tasmania, Tierra del Fuego, or the Queen Charlotte Islands, or profiling the legends in the sport, Curgenven has captured the excitement of sea kayaking at its most adventurous. No baked beans necessary. —Joe Glickman

There’s something wild and untamable about water that I’m drawn to. I don’t know if I can even analyze it. I’m not able to control the water or its moods and I have grown to love that.

I’ve always been focused, hardworking and competitive. With sea kayaking, I enjoy competing with myself, pushing a little bit harder. ‘Okay, I did a 20-mile crossing, now let’s see if I can do one twice as long.’ I’m always testing my limits I suppose.

Field hockey was my passion for years. I think my love of hockey gives a clue to my nature. I was part of a team but I had very good individual skills—although some of my friends said I didn’t pass enough! I’m independent and enjoy my own company, but not for too long.

Working as a news reporter was the best training for what I do now. It taught me how to tell a story and that’s the key thing in making a film. You can have the most beautiful pictures in the world, but with no story I’m bored after five minutes.

In 2003, I decided to go to Iceland and kayak by myself. I’d been paddling with a lot of good paddlers in northern Wales and thought, ‘The only way I’m going to learn is to do a trip by myself.’ I made some errors in judgment but it was a massive learning experience.

I spent a lot of time thinking of a title for the DVD and came up with This Is The Sea. After the DVD was printed a friend said, ‘Do you realize what the acronym is?’ At first I was worried that people would think I named it TITS on purpose.

I like strong characters; they’re interesting. And I like people who wear their heart on their sleeve and say it as it is.

Paul Caffyn paddled around Australia, Japan, Great Britain, the length of Alaska and all these cool places before anyone else even thought about doing that sort of thing. And he did it for the pure love of it because that’s what he enjoyed doing. I have a lot of respect for that as he did those trips without a GPS or technology, long before people thought such trips were possible.

I love to film emotion. Most times when things go wrong, I think, ‘Quick, get the camera out!’ It’s like: This is crap for the expedition, but good for the movie.

Sometimes I think it would be nice to do a trip without filming. If I didn’t have to record them, I’d have just enjoyed the dolphins jumping out in front of me. But then again, if I didn’t film it, I might not be able to go on the trip.

My partner Barry Shaw is a private person, and it’s been quite difficult for me to point the camera at him when things are going wrong. But he’s gotten better at it and I’ve gotten better at treating him with respect. Sometimes a bit tricky but we’ve worked it out. Some people love the camera, others do not. If you go on a trip with me you’re going to get a camera in your face.

I still want to go out there and do more bold trips. I’d love to go to the Aleutians islands, across the string of islands in the Sea of Cortez, to Antarctica, around Vancouver Island, to the Galapagos. There are just so many places I want to see.

If I can inspire people with my films, fantastic. It’s a real pleasure when I hear that. Recently someone told me, ‘Your films take us along with you.’ I liked that. That’s great. That’s what I strive to do.